Empathy
by 4701rose
Summary: When the rain comes down, it washes away our pain, soothes our worries, and hushes us to sleep. But the pain that gets washed away, like pollution, doesn't go away. Yamamoto Takashi has empathy. And he wishes the world would just stop screaming at him.
1. What He Feels

Empathy was a curse, Takashi decided.

Whenever Takashi was around people, he could see and hear their voices in his head, crying and pleading for a relief from their pain. That was how Takashi found out his mother had left them; the burning supernova of his father's anguish ripped Takashi out of bed and he flew down the stairs, finding his father at the kitchen table, crying over a letter. Little Takashi tried to help his father, his Tou-chan, but if anything, he made it worse. Takashi went to bed that night with a heavy heart, and couldn't explain the tearstains on his pillow Tou-san found later. Thankfully, Tou-san didn't say anything, merely wrapping Takashi in a hug that wept while still being dry.

Tsuyoshi got better after that, re-opening his store and greeting worried regulars with a smile that was only a little bit strained. But Takashi knew better, knew the demons of loss and betrayal that lurked in his father's heart, and it pulled the cotton from Takashi's eyes. When Takashi went back to daycare, all the staff members (and quite a few of his friends as well) pulled him aside to ask him what was wrong.

Takashi eyed them dispassionately, noting the queasy terror balling in their stomachs, _"I'm alright. You shouldn't worry about me."_ The teachers eyed him with disbelieving eyes, but left him alone. His friends stuck around a little longer, but they too soon left, citing how boring Takashi had become. Takashi was alone.

Just the way he wanted it.

 _"_ _Who's that boy playing over there by the flowers?"_ Strangers would ask. His teachers would smile awkwardly, _"He's a bit of a strange kid. His mother left him and his father."_ Then the old ladies and wives would crone in sympathy, their emotions flickering with shadowy pity and heavy sadness, while Takashi pretended he wasn't listening in. Carefully, he constructed his sand castle: he was making the ramparts big enough to block an invasion. Takashi eyed the walls critically. It needed more sand. Takashi went off to fetch some, ignoring the kids that scattered and the adults that hushed.

* * *

Word got back to Tsuyoshi about his son's lackluster performance, and he brought it up during dinner one evening. "I'm not saying you need to become friends with everyone," Tsuyoshi said evenly, "But one or two friends couldn't hurt." Takashi eyed his father's rice paddle critically. Any more patting on that bowl of rice, and it would be more of a squashed pie than a bowl of rice. Carefully, Takashi took the bowl out from under Tsuyoshi's paddle. He blinked up at Tsuyoshi, who looked at him expectantly. This was why Takashi liked spending time with his father: no fluctuating emotions. There was nary a ripple in Tsuyoshi's pond.

Takashi smiled, relieving the attention in his father's shoulders, "I'd try Tou-chan." Tsuyoshi nodded, and the meal following was peaceful.

* * *

 _Now,_ Takashi thought, _who will do as a friend?_ Takashi eyed the chattering children around him. Nope, they would not do, Takashi decided. Their emotions were so vibrant, Takashi thought he was going to go blind if he stared too long. So that ruled out any children. Takashi turned slowly on his heel, considering. He could befriend an adult; they were much mature than his peers, not to mention Tou-chan never mentioned anything about ages, Takashi thought, smiling mischievously.

* * *

In the midst of preparing some sushi rice, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi sneezed violently. He sniffled, reaching for a tissue. "Damn this flu season," Tsuyoshi muttered, wiping his nose, "Need to remember to get Takashi a coat later… "

* * *

The question was, which adult to ask? Takashi continued to examine the room, analyzing the prospective friends. All around him, Takashi saw cheerfully smiling teachers, their happiness bubbling over and floating like a brightly-colored cloud around them. They were nauseatingly sweet. Takashi turned away, determined not to befriend such achingly sweet people. Plus, if Takashi befriended them, he would always be watching their aura. People typically didn't enjoy having someone casting their gaze about the other's face, making any such friendships unlikely to survive.

In the end, none of the children or adults in the nursery would do. In fact, Takashi continued to be friendless for quite some time, worrying his father and causing even more gossip to surrounding the now-kindergartner. Takashi ignored the bystanders in favor of books, now being able to read. Tsuyoshi supported Takashi in his academic pursuits, but still, the man worried.

When Takashi finally made his first real friend, he was walking along the river's edge, watching the water sparkle in the sunset's last rays. Tsuyoshi trusted Takashi to take care of himself, though it was often to the point of disbelief (seriously, there were bad people that Tsuyoshi was letting Takashi hang around), so Takashi went exploring. His usual spot was at the river's edge, reading or cloud-gazing or just plain thinking. It peaceful, and Takashi liked that. In all of his time by the river, he'd never seen another soul. So Takashi didn't pay any attention to where he was going. Takashi was lost in the water, lost in memory lane… until he met his soon-to-be first friend.

Takashi crashed into another body, tumbling over and electing an _'Oof!'_ from below. Takashi scrambled back, trying to find purchase, "I'm sorry- I wasn't looking-" Suddenly Takashi stopped, terrified. A pair of thick glasses glinted in the failing light, but that wasn't what made Takashi shudder ncontrollably. Deep, deep, deep misery; simmering, ancient anger; and soul-wrenching grief permeated this man's soul. _Whoever you are_ , Takashi thought, _what did you do?_


	2. What He Meets

The man below him sighed, " _Daijoubu ne,_ " /I'm fine, how are you?/

Takashi blinked, still trying to drag himself away from the man's bottomless emotions. How the hell was that even possible?! Takashi wanted to ask, to demand, to find out what the hell was causing such earth-changing pain and destructiveness. But those same emotions that puzzled Takashi kept him bound. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

The eyebrows above those horrendous glasses furrowed, " _Oi. Daijoubu ka?"_ /Hey, are you okay?/

The man leaned forward, shaking Takashi's shoulders gently. His tongue was still tied, but Takashi managed to nod. The man opposite sighed in relief, his relief caressing Takashi's skin. Takashi shuddered, scrambling backwards, off the man, and nearly dropping into the drink. Thankfully, the strange man caught Takashi's sleeve before he fell, but even that brief touch sent Takashi tumbling away from the glasses man, trembling.

Megane-san sighed, shadow-tinted hurt fingering his skin. Takashi scuffed his shoe, feeling bad, " _Ano_ , sorry for... running into you." Takashi bobbed his head in mockery of a proper bow, keeping his eyes on Megane-san. Something instinctual kept Takashi from looking away. As it was, because Takashi was watching Megane-san so intensely, he saw the bubbles of blue surprise and yellow happiness that wiped away any of the hurt the other man might've felt.

Megane-san smiled, "It's fine." Takashi stayed tense, saying nothing. An awkward silence ensued. "Ne," the glasses man chuckled, "it's getting dark. Shouldn't you be getting home?" Takashi blinked, risking a glance to the side. The glasses man was right; it was almost time to go home. Takashi turned his gaze back on the stranger, considering his options. He blinked, and the decision was made.

Takashi straightened, sketched a quick bow, and walked off. Thin trails of amusement tinged with something foreign made Takashi shudder, but he didn't run. He wouldn't cause the glasses man that dangerous sadness again. Takashi walked deliberately around the corner, and let out a breath of relief as the glasses man's feelings retreated. Damn, but that was not an encounter Takashi wanted to repeat.

* * *

Tsuyoshi scolded Takashi for staying out so late (apparently the man did worry about his son, never mind how the situation had been brought about), but didn't do anything to punish him. Instead, Tsuyoshi smiled genially over his _gyuudon_ , "I have a present for you!" He declared. Takashi watched mutely, eating his rice, as his father pulled a brown package from under the table. Tsuyoshi grinned, "Hope you like it."

* * *

The next day, Takashi was reading the first volume of Gintama at the river's edge when the glasses man showed up. Takashi eyed Megane-san from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Megane-san chuckled, walking up to Takashi and sitting next to him. "What are you reading?" the strange man asked. Takashi held up the book so Megane-san could see the cover, still reading. Silence. Then, "Do you like what it's about?"

Takashi reluctantly looked up from his pages, "Yes. Now shut up." Takashi went back to his story, smiling at the comedy of someone having an afro-butt. Takashi snickered, turning the page. Someone snickered above him. Takashi paused, glaring balefully at Megane-san, who smiled back. A quick glance yielded no other suspects. "Why were you reading over my shoulder?" Takashi asked. Megane-san only smiled wider, miming a zipper on his mouth, keeping him from speaking. Takashi's eyebrow twitched, _But apparently not from snickering, or reading for that matter._ Very deliberately, Takashi went back to his manga.

When Otae-san chucked her smoking dish over the fence, Takashi laughed, and studiously ignored the chuckles from besides him. When Gin nearly died from Kagura's dog biting into his head, Takashi had to bite his lip to keep from cackling. The man next to him had no such restrictions, and though it would probably hurt like all heck in real life, in fantasy it was hilarious. When Gin popped out from the trashcan, both Takashi and Megane-san were wrecks, giggling uncontrollably. When Takashi finally put the book down, he was smiling. Megane-san was smiling too, and their conjoined happiness was enough for Takashi to loosen up. " _Hajimemashita_ ," Takashi grinned, "My name's Yamamoto Takashi."

Megane-san smiled genially, extending his hand for an American greeting, "Nice to meet you Yamamoto-kun. My name is Kawahira." Takashi shook the man's hand firmly, relaxing even more.

"No second name?" Takashi asked curiously, taking back his hand.

Kawahira smiled softly, "No, my people don't need a second name." Takashi quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. A comfortable silence descended. Takashi watched the water, seeing how blue it was in the afternoon sun. It was nice.

"Ne," Kawahira broke the silence, smiling mischievously, "Do you want to go to the bookstore?" Takashi turned his head to look at Kawahira-san, tapping his fingers on his Gintama volume questioningly. Kawahira grinned in conspiracy, deliberately winking with one eye.

Takashi lit up, jumping up and grabbing Kawahira by the hand, trying to drag the man to standing, "C'mon, c'mon, let's go!" Takashi dug his heels into the soft soil, pulling a laughing Kawahira to his feet. Takashi's eyes gleamed, "C'mon!" He chirped, ready to go. Kawahira snickered, but held onto Takashi's hand and started in the direction of the nearest bookstore. Takashi was practically bouncing in place, "How many books can we get?" he asked eagerly.

Kawahira laughed, "As many as they have," which settled Takashi down somewhat. But the walk to the bookstore was still content, Takashi babbling about this or that ("One time, I hit a home run, and nobody could find it after that!" "Oh ho? You must be quite strong," or "Takeda-san lives in that house. He lets me pet his cat and read his books," "Oh ho? What kind of books do you like to read?" "Gintama of course! And folk tales and-") while Kawahira was content to listen, putting in the odd word or two in. Before they knew it, Takashi and Kawahira were at the bookstore.

It was chaos.

Takashi, unrestricted by price or maturity (or any sense of decency, Kawahira thought wryly, discreetly creating a debit card to pay for everything), went flying down the walls, talking a mile a minute and pulling book after book down from the shelves. Kawahira followed doggedly in the boy's footsteps, putting everything into a cart and gently tugging down the books Takashi couldn't reach.

The cash register stared at them blankly, considering the behemoth pile of books and the smiles opposite: Takashi was beaming, while Kawahira was smiling awkwardly. Shrugging, the man rang up their purchases, smiling softly as the man and boy left the shop hand-in-hand, the little boy chirping away while the man listened.

* * *

 **I was honestly so surprised and so moved by the response that I got (one review in the first week! That never happens!) that I decided to post this chapter early. Just so you know, I'm planning to keep to system of one chapter every Friday. Feel free to send me angry emails if I don't post; I need a kick to the booty to get into gear sometimes.**

 **To all you Gintama fans out there, I apologize if I messed up the order of events. I haven't actually read the first two volumes in years.**


	3. What He Hopes

**A few things:**

 **1) Name; I changed Takeshi to Takashi on purpose; this is an AU, and I wanted that to be obvious.**

 **2) Language; After receiving a review that asked for less Japanese, I will cut it back. But I will keep the cultural editions the same, because the setting is _Japan_. If I change the setting to America, I'll let my readers know.**

 **3) Character; Takashi's character is still up for grabs in some areas, but in this case I pictured him as a quieter, more observant child who has difficulties interacting with people because of his empathy. Be honest, if someone groped you every time you talked or looked at them, would you want to spend time with them? Takashi's empathy isn't nearly as severe as that, but he is having his emotional control ripped from his hands every time he spends time with others. I feel like that would be enough motivation for Takashi to be antisocial, in addition to the fact that kids his age nor adults can understand what Takashi is going through. As for the "mood swings," well, Takashi is still the same person at heart, just a little bit more cautious and wary of people. So he'll still act like a child when he feels safe enough to do so.**

O X O

Takashi waited impatiently until the teachers let them go, which was when Takashi jerked out of his seat, ignoring the popcorn bursts of fern-like surprise, and happily feeling the weight of his book bag against the boy's back. He had something to share with Kawahira.

Takashi raced down the halls, dodging the few students and teachers he met, and practically flew down the steps, passing his father in a whirlwind that left Tsuyoshi laughing. Takashi smiled, thanking his father internally for the gift, and continued on his way. He was a man with a mission, and that mission would be carried out.

It wasn't far to the river, but having taken the whole way at a solid sprint, Takashi was panting heavily when he collapsed next to his chuckling companion. Kawahira snickered before handing Takashi a fresh water bottle. It was a little ritual of theirs that had started after Takashi ran all the way from school the first time.

Gratefully Takashi unscrewed the cap, drinking deeply as his chest heaved up and down. Kawahira watched his young charge in silence, smiling. When Takashi had drunk the whole bottle, Kawahira took the empty plastic and tucked it away. Kawahira grinned, Takashi mirroring the expression, both of their eyes glittering with good cheer, "You got it then?" Kawahira asked, chuckling as Takashi nodded fervently.

Takashi swung his book bag around, digging around towards the bottom where all his papers tended to go. "Yep," he grunted, still looking, "Got Tou-san to sign it last night." Kawahira chuckled when Takashi let out a grunt of triumph, having finally found the elusive paper. Takashi grinned impishly, shoving the crumpled card into Kawahira's hands.

Delicately, the man un-crumpled and unfolded the invitation, reading out loud, clearly, "You are formally invited to Yamamoto Takashi's birthday party. Signed," here Kawahira squinted theatrically, "Yamamoto Tsuyoshi and… Yamamoto Tako*?" Kawahira chuckled as Takashi huffed, hitting Kawahira on the arm without any heat.

Kawahira apologized, reading Takashi's name correctly with extra emphasis, putting a smile on Takashi's face. Takashi leaned forward excitedly, careful not to elicit the dark purple wisps of discomfort he'd caused before, when Takashi gave the man an ice-cream-driven hug. "So," Takashi's eyes gleamed, "Will you come?"

Kawahira smiled, "I don't see why not," he said, checking the RSVP address and committing it to memory. Next to him, Takashi cheered, happy for his father and Kawahira, who was quickly coming to be like his older brother, to meet. About a week after Kawahira showed up at the river for the first time, Tsuyoshi commented on never seeing his son these days. Takashi felt guilty about that, and the even quieter boy had made Kawahira worry. It was easily fixed; Kawahira and Tsuyoshi could meet, size each other up (Takashi rolled his eyes; he just knew that was going to happen, based on how protective they both were), plan for future meets, and generally be friendly.

But when it came down to actually planning the meet, Tsuyoshi was very busy, and while Kawahira didn't work much (the man commented that he had minions for that), what little free days Tsuyoshi had were the days Kawahira was working. Thus began the game of cat and mouse; back and forth, back and forth Takashi went, carrying little notes between the two men, until finally Kawahira asked for Tsuyoshi's phone number so that they could stop wasting paper and time. The planning went a lot smoother after that.

So here they now were, a few weeks later, with Takashi finally bringing in the last piece of the puzzle. All three of them were excited, though they each displayed in different ways. Kawahira smiled, ruffling Takahi's hair. "Ne," he suggested, "why don't you pull out your book and we can read?" Takashi grinned, finding the forty-second volume of Gintama easily. It was right on the top after all.

Kawahira took the book graciously, opening it up to their page and beginning to read out loud. While it annoyed both of them to slow down, it was better than one of them straining to read while the other cackled about something that happened a dozen pages later.

"'Why would you do this?'" Kawahira read, "'You are Kabuki-chou's number one host. Has the silicone in your nose started to rot?'" Takashi smiled, leaning over to read the next line. They spent the afternoon that way, reading the dialogue in a back-and-forth manner until the volume was done. Kawahira closed the book, snickering at the expression on Takashi's face. "Maa, maa, Gin-kun will still be here tomorrow," Kawahira said, handing Takashi his book back.

Dutifully Takashi put the manga away, still pouting, "But you won't." Takashi turned petulant eyes away from Kawahira so he wouldn't have to see the tendrils of dark green anxiety and violet helplessness. It was true; Kawahira was going to be busy the next day, some unexplained business he clamped up about whenever Takashi asked. Takashi sighed, staring at the moving water before him. He knew it was childish and immature, but he wanted to spend time with Kawahira-san, and he wanted to do it tomorrow!

Takashi grumbled a little bit more, torturing Kawahira-san a little bit more before sighing and letting it go. Instead, Takashi chose to think of the day after tomorrow, when he only had a half-day of school before his birthday party. Takashi grinned, thinking of the happy meeting between Kawahira and Tsuyoshi, as well as the present Tsuyoshi was currently hiding. Takashi's grin grew as he remembered how jumpy his father had been in the last few days, not to mention the small cake they'd bought together, decorated with little books and smiley faces and the kanji version of Takashi's name. Takashi smiled softly, remembering Tsuyoshi's promise that they would make some sushi together. Perhaps Kawahira-san would even join them, Takashi fantasized.

A cough from behind made Takashi blink and look over at Kawahira, who was gesturing towards the setting sun. "You should probably start heading home," the man said awkwardly, hilarious octopi tendrils flailing around wildly in dark guilt. Takashi watched the octopi and Kawahira as the boy stood up, dusting grass off his shorts and picking up his bag.

At the last moment, Takashi turned towards Kawahira and smiled. "Have a nice day at work tomorrow," he said warmly, hiding his resentment and pushing it deep, deep into the recesses of his mind. But, as Kawahira blinked in surprise and then smiled, Takashi was glad he could control his urges for others. Takashi waved cheerfully before heading off, his book bag bouncing a steady rhythm on his legs.

O X O

Before the man in black crashed into him and sent his emotions spirally out of control, Takashi was actually having a pretty good day. He'd successfully ignored his gossiping teachers, avoided any mass confrontations at school, and mildly succeeded in his attempt to be normal. Heck, even Takashi's homeroom teacher had commented that Takashi seemed back to snuff; something Takashi took great pride in, considering that this teacher had transferred with him when Takashi moved from daycare to kindergarten.

Takashi was walking home, blissfully normal, when the man in black crashed into Takashi with a tsunami of fear and the need to _runrunrun_ —before Takashi knew was happening, he was dragging the man in black by the hand, an instinctual terror sending his feet flying faster than they ever had before. They flew over curbs and ditches until the man in black yanked them both into a darkened alleyway. A stinking hand went over Takashi's mouth to smoother any cries, but it wasn't needed; Takashi hadn't been this scared since his father woke him to tell him Kaa-chan was gone and she was never coming back.

Takashi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, and almost gagged. Really, but the man's hands stank worse than the dung down the ally. Keeping his breathing shallow, Takashi tried to regain his emotional control, which was helped by the man in black slowly calmly down as well. The two of them waited quietly, the man in black poking his head out of the ally a few times while Takashi waited for the man to let him go. The boy couldn't decide if he wanted to be angry and hit the man in black, bored and just go home afterwards, or scared that the man in black wasn't going to ever let Takashi go home.

The decision was taken out of Takashi's hands as he yelped, terrified, when the man in black groaned and fell forward, onto Takashi. When Takashi's fright passed, he began to squirm and wriggle, trying to get out from the now-unconscious man in black.

"What are doing?" A stranger asked as Takashi' head jerked up, banging against the man in black's shoulder and making Takashi groan. _That was going to leave a mark,_ Takashi grumbled, sticking his head out so he could see. Takashi looked up. And up. A really quite ridiculously (in Takashi's opinion) tall person was peering down curiously at Takashi, though the stranger made no move to help him. Takashi huffed, pausing in his escape efforts to study the man above.

The stranger was also dressed in black, but it was uniform, not a suit. He had thin eyes and dark hair, and was altogether not unpleasant to look at, Takashi supposed. However, considering their current positions, specifically the stranger's distinct lack of help, Takashi was not likely to compliment the man anytime soon.

So in response, Takashi grunted, taking the man's unhelpfulness for granted and continuing his attempt to wriggle out from under his burden. Takashi ignored the stranger as the other's burrow furrowed, looking up disbelievingly as the man said, "Oi. It's rude not to answer a question you've been given."

Takashi wanted to facepalm; by the mix of navy annoyance and green… something, something that always gave away polite smiles, the boy could tell the man was telling the truth. He honestly considered Takashi's _name_ to be more important than his _body_ , which was slowly being crushed underneath the original man in black.

Takashi huffed, irritated. His reply was curt, "Trying to get out from under," Takashi grunted, "here." Takashi sent a baleful glare towards the man currently squatting besides him. "I don't suppose you could help?" Takashi asked.

The man blinked, considering it, before casually tipping the man in black off Takashi so easily Takashi sputtered before he got up. "Y-you!" Takashi gestured, frantic.

The new man in black smiled, "Me." Takashi shut up, remembering the intense fear the body bag to his right had swamped him with. While Takashi was sweating bullets, the man to the boy's left smiled innocently. "Do you have a name?" He asked.

Takashi nodded, opening his mouth up long enough to say, _'Yamamoto Takashi,'_ before clamming up again. The man beside him pouted, considering this. "I think I know your dad," the man said thoughtfully, "is he the one who runs the sushi joint?" Takashi blinked, nodding hesitantly. This man knew his father… ?

The man smiled cheerfully, offering his hand to Takashi. "Would you like to go home?" He asked. Hesitantly, slowly, Takashi took the proffered hand. _This man knows Tou-chan,_ he reasoned, _and that should be good enough for me._

 _But still,_ Takashi thought as the man in black straightened and began walking with an unusually long stride, _Why was he there in the first place…?_ This bore further thinking, and an interrogation for Tsuyoshi, Takashi decided, walking quickly so he could get home faster.

O X O

 ***Kanji can be read in many different ways. Depending on the way the kanji are read, the meaning can completely change, not to mention the puns! In this case, Kawahira purposely misread my new kanji for Takashi's name ('high' and 'person'** **高子** **) in a form that was traditionally reserved for girls (girls' names end with 'ko' a lot). Also, 'tako' in Japanese is 'octopus'. Kawahira was making a really good, but really bad joke here.**

 **I should mention I finished this long before Friday, and considered posting before today so I could get more reviews. But I don't want to run out of ideas and be left floundering, so I decided to post on Friday, just like I said. That, and I couldn't find the time to post. Urgh, I feel like crap.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	4. What He Remembers

Tsuyoshi was not happy to see the strange man in black. That much Takashi could deduce, although he may have cheated by looking at Tsuyoshi's swirling emotions. Other than that, there was nothing to give the man away. He smiled cordially, thanked the man in black sincerely, and invited him to tea. Tsuyoshi looked genuinely crestfallen when the man in black said he was busy, but took it with good grace. He gave no hint of the bitter resentment flaring about him, even after Tsuyoshi closed the door. If Takashi wasn't an empath, he never would've known there was a problem. As it was, Takashi was an empath, and what he had seen worried him. As his father retreated down the hall, Takashi was wondered how to help Tsuyoshi. Somehow, an evening of making sushi didn't seem like it would cut it… but Takashi couldn't think of anything better…

Awkwardly, Takashi toddled down the hall after his father, who had gone into the kitchen. Takashi stuck his head through the doorway, peering in shyly. "Um," Takashi mumbled, drawing his father's attention, which had drifted down to the kitchen table, "C-can we make s-sushi?" Takashi's face was burning, and he deliberately looked away from Tsuyoshi's tentacled surprise. Tentacles only appeared when appeared when people were caught off guard. Takashi knew from experience most people had poor reactions when caught off-guard. He hoped that wouldn't be true for his father.

Instead of getting angry, like Takashi's teachers did after the tentacles appeared, Tsuyoshi smiled brightly. "Of course we can!" the man said, rising and going to fetch the rice cooker. "Go grab the vinegar, would you?" Tsuyoshi asked, halfway into the pantry. Takashi nodded, darting off to the left, where the spices and condiments were kept. As he scurried about, looking for the vinegar, Takashi started to smile. There was a light, bubbly feeling in his chest, making rising to the top shelf much easier than before, and reminded Takashi of the pale blue bubbles happiness manifested as. _I'm happy,_ Takashi giggled, grinning. Gleefully, he was remembered the mellow orange and gold that had bloomed on Tsuyoshi just before; both colors associated with happiness and content.

Takashi giggled once more. _Now,_ he wondered looking around the spice closet, _where is that vinegar? We need it for the sushi..._

O X O

Takashi stopped suddenly on the steps, his book bag hitting his legs harshly. Takashi barely noticed, too busy staring up at the tall man from the night before. Unbidden, intense, instinctual fear and bitter resentment struck Takashi, hard. But he gave no sign of these emotions, just as he father had not the night before. Instead, Takashi watched the man in black closely, seeing the pink amusement and the dark shadow Takashi associated with criminals and homeless guys. Takashi assumed it was maliciousness. So far, Takashi had seen nothing to help the man in black's cause (whatever it may be).

Quietly, secretly, Takashi snuck around the tiny playground, keeping his head down and his eyes on the man in black. The man in black was looking elsewhere, chatting happily with a woman nearby. But Takashi was not fooled, he would not allow himself to be fooled; this man's intentions and emotions betrayed him to Takashi, revealing him as dangerous and someone to avoid. Takashi pressed himself against the stone wall, having crossed the playground lot, and wondered how to get through the gate unseen.

A beat.

"What'cha doin'?" Takashi jumped, startled, and snapped his head to the side. Innocent, large, hazel brown eyes blinked up at Takashi, curiosity twinkling and popping out of those large puppy-dog eyes like fireworks. Takashi tried to scoot back discreetly, but he still had to move a good foot away from the kid just so the curiosity wouldn't hit him. Silently, Takashi put a finger to his lips, signaling silence. He saw darker interest start to replace the curiosity before Takashi turned and peaked around the corner.

The man in black was staring at him. "Boo," the man said. Takashi reeled backwards, stumbling back to the wall and into the other kid. A virtual tsunami of bright curiosity crashed over Takashi, swamping his senses and _whatwasgoingonarewegoingtoplaydoeshehaveadaddy_ \- Takashi jerked away roughly, scrambling backwards, his heart beating wildly. The brown-eyed boy looked hurt, the man in black seemed interested, and Takashi was just trying his damnest to be _Takashi_. The walls of the playground were closing in, _thetentacleswerecomingforhimtherewastoomuchno-_

"Takashi!" Takashi jerked his head up, his chest and throat constricting. He saw safety, and he ran, ran straight into Kawahira's arms. Takashi trembled violently, burying his head into Kawahira's chest. One or two tears may have escaped before Takashi ruthlessly crushed that helpless feeling, dispersing the hard emotion like shattered glass, and sucking up Kawahira's warmth like milk.

Takashi breathed deeply, taking in _Kawahira_ and realizing that he'd never appreciated the man's solidness so much before this. But now Takashi did, because the world was a scary place with scary people and scary emotions; Takashi needed someplace safe. Somewhere that doesn't fall apart at the slightest wave. Somewhere solid... like Kawahira. _Kawahira can be Safe_ , Takashi thought, allowing himself to slowly calm down. The tension in his shoulders eased a little. Sure, there was emotion here; everyone had them. But no emotions that screamed that they wanted something from Takashi, and Takashi appreciated that with everything he was. He was _Takashi,_ not Kawahira or the little boy from before _._

Takashi was almost relaxed when he heard from above, "How rude!" It was the man in black, exclaiming theatrically like a small child, unaware his own rudeness. Unaware of the spikes his words and emotions became. Quietly, Takashi buried himself further into Kawahira's kimono, smelling the faint scent of books and inwardly marking the man in black as someone to never, ever, be alone with. Clearly Kawahira had the same thought; the man hugged Takashi closer, gently calming Takashi. Takashi was safe, he was Safe, he was _Takashi_.

Distantly, Takashi heard Kawahira say, "Is that so? Did I not just see you terrorize this poor boy?" Kawahira's voice was cold, "You sir, are the one who is rude." Without further ado, Kawahira picked up Takashi and marched off, a few pulses of anger escaping the man's control, but not nearly enough to overwhelm Takashi. Truthfully though, Takashi was already overwhelmed; he was still buried in Kawahira, in being Safe, and being Takashi. Not much sensory information passed that.

Through the fog of his mind, Takashi heard a sharp intake of breath. Then, "What happened?" It was Tsuyoshi. He was also Safe. Slowly, from the depths of Kawahira's robe, Takashi reached his hand out. The fierce whispering stopped when Takashi grabbed Tsuyoshi's jerkin. "Please," Takashi stopped, not knowing what he wanted. Well, he knew what he wanted; he wanted all the people in the world to go away, for Takashi to not need the people in the world, he wanted his empathy gone, he wanted to just be _Takashi_ , and he wanted to be safe. Safe. "Safe," Takashi settled on. Tsuyoshi drew a sharp breath, but Takashi was Safe, he was relaxing, and he was drifting off to sleep.

O X O

Tsuyoshi tucked his son into bed, making sure Takashi would be warm for the night. When the last corner was pinned down, Tsuyoshi sat back on his heels, a troubled frown on his face.

"Looks like that birthday party will have to wait," Kawahira murmured, standing politely by the door. Tsuyoshi said nothing, though his heart did get heavier.

"He was really looking forward to this," Kawahira added, forgoing politeness and coming over to Takashi's bed. Tsuyoshi watched as Kawahira smiled softly, if sadly, at the sleeping boy. Quietly, Tsuyoshi gestured for Kawahira to follow him to the other room. After a brief, Takashi-filled pause, both of the men left.

Tsuyoshi was still frowning. "I'll talk to Hibari-san tomorrow," he said, grimacing. He could already picture how the conversation would go, and it would not be pretty. Kawahira huffed, silently lending his support. No doubt there would be tempers involved, Kawahira thought wryly. Hell, he'd barely managed to check his temper today, and that was before Takashi did the hand thing!

Kawahira lips pulled down into a glum frown. "What do you think scared him so bad?" He asked Tsuyoshi, hoping the man would know. After all, Tsuyoshi had known Takashi much longer than Kawahira had. But it seemed even Tsuyoshi was stumped, for the man merely shook his head and played with his hands. "I don't know," Tsuyoshi said, helpless. He was also terrified; this situation was a little too far out of his hands for his liking. _If Takashi comes home like that again-_ Tsuyoshi stopped those thoughts in their tracts, focusing instead on Kawahira. The man met his gaze head on, an inkling of what was going to be said next. "Whatever happens," Tsuyoshi murmured, "please take care of my son." Tsuyoshi made to get up for a formal _dogeza_ * but Kawahira stopped him.

Kawahira waved his hand negligently. "It will a delight," he said, already considering how to get around Checkerface and the associated duties. Across the table, Tsuyoshi relaxed in his seat, glad for the help. Raising a son alone in a world of dangers, including oneself, was a lot of work. Tsuyoshi was glad for the help.

"Thank you," Tsuyoshi said quietly, mindful of the child sleeping in the other room**. Tsuyoshi grinned a little, perking up in his seat. "And for what's worth," Tsuyoshi smiled warmly at Kawahira, who was staring at him oddly, "I am glad to meet you." Kawahira muttered assent, a peaceful quiet settling over the house. No matter what happened, Kawahira and Tsuyoshi would stand by Takashi. To help, to support, and just to make him laugh. In the other room, Takashi slept on, unaware of his importance.

O X O

 ***** ** _dogeza_** **is a very formal bow; it means getting down on your hands and knees, banging your forehead on the ground, and begging repeatedly. Yeah. It's a big deal. But then so Takashi~!**

 ****I feel like I should mention, Japanese homes are tiny. Last year, Japan was ranked fifth highest place in the world to live. So yeah. Tiny homes.**

 **Question: Should I make Tsuyoshi/Kawahira a thing? I don't know, these characters are pretty adamant that they want to be together...**

 ***on the brink of pulling out hair* This chapter did not work out the way I wanted it to! I yanked and pulled and nagged these characters into working, but they're still being defiant! T^T I'm working on it. Hopefully the next chapter will be better.**

 **T^T Not so many reviews this time. Makes me sad. The dwindling views sucks too. *isn't being very subtle* Read and review guys! Please and thank you.**


	5. What He Fears

Sawada Tsunayoshi frowned, staring down pensively at the innocent letter in Kaa-chan's hands. It was lovingly decorated with chibi fans* and poetic flowers, with a pale yellow stationary that Tsuna knew always smelled spicy. Tsuna also knew that this letter would pull Kaa-chan in like a moth to flame, and that any fretting and fussing she might've done over the last few weeks would be instantly forgotten in the happy delirium that always followed his father's letters. Tsuna's brow furrowed, staring down at the letter from the landing, half-hoping the letter would burst into flames. He hated how Kaa-chan would flounce and prance before petering out into a depressed silence that lasted until the next letter. Tsuna hated the way his heart would clench whenever he spied Kaa-chan staring out the window, looking sad. But more than that, Tsuna hated that he couldn't anything about this system. He couldn't cheer up his own mother, nor could he bring his father home. For these failures, Tsuna hated himself.

Quietly, Tsuna backed away from the landing edge and headed back to his room. The door opened and shut quietly. On the desk was some homework Tsuna ignored, heading instead for his bed. Tsuna sighed softly, collapsing onto his plush mattress. It was quiet here; peaceful even. Tsuna curled onto his side, turning his head to stare out the window. The sky was blue, the sun was yellow, and the clouds were white. It was peaceful outside too. Tsuna turned his head again, staring down at his comforter and wondering why he wanted the peace to leave so much.

O X O

Checkerface was waiting for Kawahira was he appeared. They both stared at each other critically, a battle brewing in this illusionary garden. "You want to get rid of me," Checkerface intoned, his mask revealing nothing. But Kawahira knew him, and knew the chill that went up his spine was from fear, not cold. Kawahira shrugged.

"Would you protect that child?" Kawahira asked nonchalantly, pushing his hands into his robe sleeves. Between the cold winds both men were producing, the temperature was dropping fast. The illusion fluttered innocently, oblivious.

Checkerface smiled coldly, "Why would you care?" Checkerface sneered, a hiss just below the surface. He didn't like his toys to run away, and certainly not with children whose manipulation was bare-faced. If Checkerface was going to be defeated, it was going to be by someone of higher caliber, not a sniveling brat. But Kawahira held his head up high against the accusation.

"I made a promise," Kawahira said, ignoring Checkerface's snort. Yes, Kawahira had a bad track record when it came to keeping promises, and previously no problems breaking such promises. But not now. Kawahira didn't understand it, couldn't understand it (his only help was a more social retarded individual who thought cursing others into a lifetime of pain was a nice way to start the day), but it was true that he wanted to keep this promise. _Something this delicate... would feel wrong to hurt,_ Kawahira decided, _like kicking a puppy or wounded cat._ Kawahira and Checkerface's frowns deepened; that wasn't a good enough reason. Kawahira had plenty of experience (and sometimes enjoyment of) kicking people when they were down. So why... ?

Checkerface snorted. He smirked cruelly at Kawahira's questioning glance. "Do what you will," Checkerface's smirk became crueler, "But how long can you keep that promise?" Checkerface's smirk was sharp and cold, and it floated like a taunt as the garden around it froze. Just before the illusion shattered and Kawahira woke up, there was a distinct cackle and a whisper of darker things to come. Kawahira lay frozen in his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. He brought a clammy head to his forehead, wondering how a little boy could be worth Checkerface's jealousy.

O X O

Shoving his anger and hate into a dark corner inside himself, Tsuyoshi prepared himself to ring the doorbell of the Hibari residence. He could admit to himself, standing here alone, that he had a bone to pick with Hibari Satoshi, and it was a bone that had been long in picking. From the first day of class to a bitter winter's evening, to the anti-social son this blasted man had hurt. Tsuyoshi could admit to himself, standing alone on the street, that he wouldn't mind taking a knife and slitting Hibari-san's throat one quiet night. But Tsuyoshi had put that all behind him long ago, when he fell in love with a woman named Judy, and so Tsuyoshi pushed those dark emotions far away from his heart and mind. They lingered on the edges of his soul like smog, but it didn't stop Tsuyoshi from ringing the doorbell.

The in-com sparked to life. _"Who is it?"_ The in-com wheezed, sounding distinctly out of sorts. Tsuyoshi had to hide a chuckle when he heard a jaw-cracking yawn.

Tsuyoshi cleared his throat, smiling against invisible enemies. "I'm here to talk with Hibari Satoshi-san. May I come in?" He asked politely.

The in-com was quiet before the disjointed voice said stiffly, _"Understood. The door is open."_ The in-com abruptly crackled off, leaving Tsuyoshi blinking in surprise, alone on the street. Tsuyoshi shrugged, still armed with a smile, and let himself in. He walked through the gate, past the flower garden, and up to the front door. True to form, Tsuyoshi knocked politely on the door before he pushed it open, finding the door indeed unlocked. Tsuyoshi paused on the threshold, taking it all in. The rooms Tsuyoshi could see were tidy, traditional, and mildly chilly. For as far as the eye could see, there was no one there.

Cautiously, Tsuyoshi closed the door behind him, murmuring a quick prayer for entering and taking off his shoes. He was _not_ going to be thrown out just because he was being impolite, which was something Hbari-san would most definitely accuse him of being. Tsuyoshi rolled his eyes, suppressing a sigh. No matter the years or the experiences, Hibari-san was still an antagonistic SOB who didn't know when to stop pushing people's buttons. Before, Tsuyoshi would've just settled the matter with a match, but after his injury... Tsuyoshi was learning to fight with words, not with swords. Not that Tsuyoshi enjoyed the former over the latter, but he was finding that he now had much more money to spend on groceries now that he wasn't tearing a hole in the wall every time he needed to vent some stress.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" a voice asked, scaring the bejesus out of Tsuyoshi and pulling him around so fast he almost got whiplash. Tsuyoshi stared, gobsmacked, at the woman crankily glaring at him in her pajamas. Tsuyoshi recognized her voice from the in-com.

He chuckled nervously, pasting his smile back on (when had it fallen?). "I'm afraid I don't know where to go," he admitted, "so yes, I might be standing here all day." Tsuyoshi weathered the glare without flinching. Goodness knew he'd suffered far worse than a temperamental woman. Said woman snorted, waving a hand negligently down the hall.

"Satoshi-kun's in his office," she said dismissively, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. Tsuyoshi bite back a chuckle as he bade the woman goodbye, a sly grin watching as she waved him off, already dismissing him in her mind. The woman reminded Tsuyoshi of his younger sister, before HIbari-san came in and screwed everyone over. Tsuyoshi's grin waved, his eyes darkening in memory, before shaking things off and heading down the hall. He'd already decided not to focus on such things.

Hibari-san was indeed in his office, reading papers and looking bored with the world, as per the usual. Tsuyoshi smiled, knocking quietly on the door. "Hello," he said when the man opposite looked up from his papers. Tsuyoshi pretended not to grit his teeth when Hibari-san practically lit up, smiling and nodding as both man went to shake.

"How've you been?" Hibari-san asked, taking his seat again. At Hibari-san's gesture, Tsuyoshi did the same.

Tsuyoshi took his seat gingerly, like he was expecting the leather to morph into a cat and eat him. When he was properly seated, Tsuyoshi turned towards his... host. "I've been good," he replied, smiling genially, "And you?" Tsuyoshi watched carefully as Hibari-san waved his hand, the air of someone important pretending not to be coming through.

"I was insulted by a stranger the other day," the man said, sounding honestly affronted. Tsuyoshi hid a grin and a wince, knowing that at the moment he was in no position to make war. He'd left his sword at home just so he wouldn't make war, first of all. Instead, Tsuyoshi chuckled sympathetically.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, still smiling, "what was the insult about?" A frown rippled across Hibari-san's face, petulant like a child told 'no'.

"Not important," Hibari-san dismissed, putting an end to that line of inquiry. Briefly, Tsuyoshi wondered what the insult had been, and who was the poor sucker who was going to suffer for it later. But the insult wasn't why Tsuyoshi was here today, so he cleared his throat, bringing them to the matter at hand.

"A friend of mine," Tsuyoshi began, pulling in Hibari-san's interest, "talked to me about something you said to my son the other day. Whatever you said," Tsuyoshi tried to ignore the growing frown on Hibari-san's face, "Whatever you said, it hurt Takashi," Tsuyoshi stopped. What was he supposed to say? Threaten the man away from his son? Oust him as a child-hater? None of things would have any effect. Asking why he did so just seemed foolish. But Tsuyoshi's resolve was hardening, a memory of a tiny hand and strong grip keeping him in seat and the words flowing.

"I ask that you do not... hurt my son again," Tsuyoshi said firmly, after a moment of fumbling for words. Too strong a word would make the war Tsuyoshi was trying to stall. Because stalling was all it was ever going to amount to; judging by Hibari-san's frown, there were no words soft enough for this topic. HIbari-san hated anyone telling him what to do.

"Have I told you about the man who insulted me?" Hibari-san asked, acid dripping from his words. Tsuyoshi blinked, trepidation sinking like a stone in his stomach. He was sure the subject-change was intentional and somehow connected, but for the life of him, the only connect Tsuyoshi could see was the possible consequences. That is to say, the ones where Hibari-san attacked the people he deemed enemies.

Hibari-san's smile was dark and cruel, and he continued on, regardless of Tsuyoshi's silence. "He was badgering me about the same thing you do now," he said, annoyance and self-righteousness flaring brightly, "And I fail to see the harm I commit by telling a child that he is _rude_ ," Hibari-san emphasized the last word, as if suggesting Takashi was the problem. Unbidden, Tsuyoshi's temper flared, and hot words were out before he could stop them.

"You are the one who is rude," he snarled, severe dislike spicing his words as Tsuyoshi stood suddenly, looming over Hibari-san, "You would yell at a child for a mere action?"

Hibari-san frowned, slithering upwards and getting into Tsuyoshi's face. "Like every parent does to every child?" the man snarked, a dangerous growl in his throat, "Like you've never yelled at your son before?" Tsuyoshi gnashed his teeth, infuriated.

"May God Himself strike me down if I lie when I say I have _never,_ " Tsuyoshi spat the word harshly, "yelled my son into _tears!_ " Tsuyoshi trembled in anger, glaring at Hibari-san with just as much venom as the man glared back.

Hibari-san sneered, "You never learn anything unless it's by hard luck," his voice was dark with emotion, emotion Tsuyoshi could not ( _would_ not) identify. If he did, he would surely fly into a rage. As it was, Tsuyoshi flew out of the house, marching down the hall and through the doors, past the garden and out by the gate. There, on a street where no one was looking, Tsuyoshi allowed himself to rage. It bubbled out of him like bubbles in a fish tank, and when it was done Tsuyoshi felt significantly better. Better, but not best; the goal Tsuyoshi had planned for, to protect his son, had ended in folly. Tsuyoshi sighed, dropping his head into his hands. What a mess.

O X O

 ***Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, the man Tsuna is named after, is always depicted with fans. Look him up; he's famous.**

 **Uhh... I was going to have more, but nothing was working. Sorry. But I let the characters run the show! Even though now it's turning into a sitcom! ... I wish I could write better. T^T Scrap that, I wish I felt better! I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night (stupid stress), so it's now two-thirty in the afternoon and I'm just starting to regain my wits. Joy. Getting back to the characters, I want to justify why Checkerface was a lot less confrontational with his 'jealousy'. One, I have been in his shoes, and know that sometimes we say 'yes' when really we mean 'no'. We also take the 'betrayal' personally, and want to get away as soon as possible so we can plot revenge. *shrugs* I wasn't always a bubbly person. I can be downright nasty if need be. The second reason is that that situation was what the characters wanted.**

 **I should probably mention that I haven't seen/read much of KHR, and so the events are most definitely going to be different! The people are too, because apparently this is an interpersonal fic. *shrugs* Honestly, I just want to have fun with this fic. Whatever happens, happens. I pretty much have no planning... anyone have ideas for a climax?**

 **R & R, please and thank you.**


	6. What He Climbs

***in a state of shock* So many views... ! *bows* Thank you for reading my story.**

O X O

Takashi could barely keep his breakfast down, he had so many butterflies in his stomach. They were a curse upon men, Takashi decided, stopping for the third time to crouch on the side of the road, trying not to throw up. A few curious passerby glanced in Takashi's direction, but no one stopped to ask if he was alright*; no one to distract Takashi from his fear. He knew it was silly, that the man in question had done nothing (physically) harmful to Takashi, but all the same, Takashi wished he didn't have to go to school today. The man in black would surely be waiting after school for whomever he always waited for ( _W_ _hy else would he be there after school?_ Takashi thought, holding back the urge to barf), and the thought of That Man was enough to make Takashi break out in cold sweat. And feel sick to his stomach.

Takashi had considered asking Tou-chan to let him stay home from school today, but there were a lot of reasons against this: a), Tsuyoshi had to work, and Takashi didn't feel like bothering him; b), the man in black would still be there until Takashi was finally sent to school for reason a; and c), Takashi kind of figured that if he stopped going to school now, he would never go back again, as per reason b. But no matter how much Takashi's stomach churned in fear, resentment, and nerves, the fact of the matter was that he was even more scared of disappointing his father. Worrying him didn't sound too grand either. So when Takashi turned up in the kitchen this morning, his stomach in riots, and saw Tsuyoshi flinting about the kitchen with a big smile on his face (and dark anxiety warping the air around him), Takashi didn't have the heart to stay home. Not when his father was so clearly in need of reassurance, something Takashi found himself unable to leave alone. If Tsuyoshi noticed that his son was especially helpful or quiet, he didn't say anything.

So here Takashi was, halfway to school and halfway to hell. Scratch that, this living hell had started back when Takashi first turned into an empath. Takashi gripped his stomach, groaning quietly, and wishing there was a magic pill for making his empathy go away.

O X O

Tsuna blinked, startled. He'd been walking on his way to school, having already said goodbye to a delirious Kaa-chan (Tsuna specifically left early just he wouldn't have to deal with that can of worms), and found a stick to wack away the silence. The walls behind Tsuna were evidence of his wrongdoing, evidence of disorder, but a satisfied Tsuna knew the neighbors would never blame him. He was their sweet, lovable, utterly adorable Tsu-kun. They wouldn't blame him if he drove a car over their hand and crippled them for life, so long as he cried afterwards. As it was, Tsuna was merely dragging his stick along the fences, enjoying the _shusssh-shuck-shuusssssh_ noise he was making, when he turned a corner. Lo and behold, there was a kid squatting down in front of a telephone pole.

Tsuna dropped his stick and hurried over, worried. " _Daijoubu ka?_ " /You okay?/ He asked, squatting down to be at the kid's level. Murky grey-blue eyes turned toward Tsuna, surprising the boy. They were the same eyes that had warned him to stay silent. Tsuna was still pretty ticked about that; ruining his fun, mumble grumble grumble. But now Tsuna found the other boy with the short end of the stick, and to his surprise he didn't like it. Tsuna furrowed his brow, confused. Tsuna looked up when the other boy groaned.

"Go away," the little boy moaned. He leaned forward, and Tsuna got closer, wondering if the boy was going to vomit. The boy stopped and stared at him. "Can I help you?" He asked politely, if a tad dryly.

Tsuna pouted at him, "You're sick," he pointed out, jabbing his finger between the other boy's eyes. The boy yelped and fell back on his bum, blinking in surprise before glaring at Tsuna, rubbing his forehead as if he was worried about Tsuna-germs. Tsuna giggled, delighted. The boy was so much fun! Well, granted, he hadn't done much, but his reactions were amazing. Laughing, Tsuna poked the other boy again, this time in the side. Same as before, the little boy yelped and jumped away, glaring at Tsuna as if he was the source of all the boy's problems. Tsuna was too busy giggling to care. In rebellion, the boy turned away, careful to protect his tender areas, and started to get up.

"So," Tsuna chirped, getting up with the boy as well, "Who're you?"

The boy's eyebrow twitched. " _Yamamoto Takashi desu_ ," he muttered, leaning against the telephone pole for support. Tsuna eyed his makeshift cane curiously.

"What'cha doin'?" Tsuna asked, taking a step forward. Yamamoto-kun shuffled along the wall, trying to keep up, and grumbling all the way.

"I'm trying to get to school," Yamamoto-kun mumbled, taking a hesitant step forward. He slid his feet in time to his feet; that is to say, very slowly. Tsuna took pity on the poor boy; Tsuna grabbed him by the elbow and started dragging them both off to school, ignoring Yamamoto-kun's yelping and flat-footed hopping.

"I can get you to school," Tsuna declared, grinning from ear to ear, "I can be your cane, like that old man over there's!" Said old man shot the two kids a nasty look, and suddenly Tsuna found himself being pulled along instead. He blinked wide eyes at a forward-looking Takashi. "Why'd you do that?" He asked, a touch annoyed.

Takashi hesitated. "How do you think he got that cane in the first place?" He asked quietly, silencing Tsuna. He... he didn't even think about that. "'That old man' probably gets lots of guys like us heckling him," Takashi continued, oblivious to the world around him. He was thinking about the gray loss and shadowy despair that cloaked the old man in nightshade. If he could help it, Takashi was going to avoid that man like the plague; he was dangerous. Especially to little children who played with his temper.

The walk to school was much quieter after that.

O X O

Hibari Satoshi restrained his temper, biting his tongue to keep from lashing out. But even with his mouth closed, his glare was as black as blood. Hibari Kyouya met his father's eyes with a clear gaze of his own. "Father," he intoned, bowing politely. Kyoya straightened, delicately flicking some blood off of his tonfa as he waited for Satoshi to speak. But Satoshi did not speak; he glanced at the fallen men, gritted his teeth, and waved his son off. Said teen bowed again, this time in goodbye, and left. Satoshi gritted his teeth tighter, making them creak, and cursed his son under his breath.

Just down the hall, Kyouya pretended not to hear anything. He could read his father like a book; Satoshi was jealous, and while that might be something to worry about if you were weaker than Satoshi, Kyouya could confidently say that at fourteen years, eleven months, and twenty-one days old, he could easily beat his father in combat, no matter the kind. Kyouya took care every day to polish his skills in every area, and the few times Satoshi stopped by left the man in a rotten mood. Today was no different. Though today Satoshi seemed even more put out. Kyouya ignored the small part that fussed over that, and turned the corner. He blinked when his mother jumped high in the air, before clutching her chest and breathing quickly. Kyouya moved forward to help, but stopped when Okaa-sama took a step back.

"Mother," Kyouya said, standing stiffly. The addressed forced a laugh, standing straighter and smiling warmly.

"Kyou-chan," she called him warmly, standing primly again. Kyouya's lips twitched impeccably, duly noting the blatant attempt at a subject change, but said nothing, merely inclining his head. Undeterred, Okaa-sama continued, "Can you pick up Kusa-chan today? I would go," she hurried to add, "But your father wants to go shopping, and, well, who am I to say no?" Okaa-sama chuckled warmly, still smiling. Kyouya smiled politely back. He murmured a quiet consent, and moved on. This time, Kyouya made it to his room without interruption, and sank gratefully onto the mattress. Training was great and all, but it was still a pain in the ass. Kyouya spent several moments merely relaxing, enjoying his comfy bed, before he glanced at the clock. He had two hours before he had to leave. Sighing softly, Kyouya curled up on his side, and went to sleep, dreaming of fluffy yellow birds and flying above a sunset.

O X O

The sensei clapped her hands together. "Okay class," she said excitedly, "Enjoy your recess!" She smiled warmly at her students, and quite a few smiled back. Takashi did not smile. He had a good reason not to; his arm was currently encased in a babbling, giggling mess that refused to be called anything other than 'Tsu-kun'. 'Tsu-kun' was annoying brat who ignored Takashi's boundaries (he seemed to enjoy stomping on them) and made himself right at home at Takashi's side. From the moment they walked into their classroom to this moment now. Takashi could honestly say he had _not_ enjoyed watching the fireworks exploding around the room when Tsuna commissioned a spot next to Takashi on the rug, but no matter where he went (including to the bathroom), Tsuna followed. It was beyond annoying! And at this point, Takashi felt that the glare he sent Tsu-kun was more than deserved. The glare didn't faze Tsu-kun (he just radiated more sunshine and rainbows, rainbows Takashi was started to be fascinated by), but it did attract some more... authoritarian attention.

Across the room, the sensei frowned. "Yamamoto-kun," she said, rising from her seat, "Is there a problem?" The sensei frowned harder when Takashi glanced derisively at her, his dislike for the situation at hand overflowing. It was j-just so...! Takashi huffed, frowning at his lack of words. He didn't know how to describe it. The way Tsuna managed to get a reaction _every freaking time_ had Takashi on guard, wary and trying to protect himself but it wasn't working and Tsuna keep pushing his buttons-

"Hey," Tsu-kun's big hazel eyes were worried, his voice lowered so the advancing (and still frowning) sensei wouldn't hear, "Are you okay?" Takashi grit his teeth, not knowing how to respond. So Tsu-kun responded for him.

"You're not okay," Tsu-kun mused, staring at Takashi thoughtfully. Suddenly, he smiled. "Let's go!" he chirped, taking Takashi by the hand and racing out the door to the small yard in the back. Tsuna ran across the yard, dodging children as he went, and stopped suddenly. Takashi stumbled to a stop behind Tsuna, bewildered, and stared at the boy as Tsuna beamed and pointed out the old sakura tree in the back. It didn't flower anymore, though Takashi assumed it had at some point.

Oblivious, Tsuna tugged on Takashi's arm. "C'mon!" he squealed excitedly, "Let's climb that tree!" For fear of losing his arm, Takashi followed Tsuna across the yard and to the base of the tree, where he was left, as Tsuna expertly scaled the old tree. Takashi stared up with his mouth open, watching Tsuna take branches and bumps with equal flair, a big smile on his face. It was only when Tsuna was halfway up the tree and paused to look down, asking as he did if Takashi was coming, that Takashi remembered himself and started to climb.

Takashi was utter pants at climbing.

It wasn't that his reflexes were terrible, but rather, Takashi had no upper body strength, making it hard to pull himself up and around the tree's winding branches. It got to be so bad (and Takashi so blue in the face) that Tsuna came down and started talking Takashi through it, trying to help the smaller boy.

"Lift your left leg," Tsuna was grumbling, unable to touch or else Takashi would fall, "No, no, your _other_ left, yes, that's it, just a little more-" In the position Takashi was in, sliding his leg up and down the next branch put his face towards the ground. And suddenly, with his eyes glued to the ground meters below, Takashi really, really didn't feel all that safe. Distantly, Takashi heard Tsuna call out in worry, but that was pressed aside by the numbing sensation that was crawling up and down Takashi's sides, freezing his blood in his veins, and coiling in his stomach. Some detached part of Takashi noticed that he was scared, and that frozen muscles couldn't really react as well when the wind blew. Takashi felt a jolt of fear before the promised wind came, whipping through with its winter-forged talons and laughing at the small children trying to defy its might. No matter how hard Takashi gripped the branch under his fingers, the bark was too smooth, and Takashi was slipping and he was so scared and the wind was cackling oh god was this how it would end-

Takashi stopped. There was a warm body and strong arms around him, keeping him safe and warm. Takashi blinked, startled, and instinctively took in his savior's emotions. They weren't dangerous, or at least not to him, and that satisfied the primal part of Takashi that had taken over when he looked down. Now, Takashi yawned quietly, the adrenaline burning off, and curled up into himself, suddenly exhausted. _Emotions are exhausting_ , Takashi sleepily noted, right along with Tsuna's worried call, and let himself relax into slumber. This person wouldn't hurt him, of that Takashi was certain.

O X O

 ***facepalms* I think I'm changing what flame each person has. And just for the record, I have no bloody clue who caught Takashi. It's a mystery until next week, when I finally have the time to write. T^T I have so much work to do, and it's not even fun work! *grumbling* Why can't school be fun for once? Although I might be biased; I just want to play in the snow. ;)**

 **Also, since we've already covered that this is an AU and because I need some teenagers to be the 'adult' figures, I changed Kyouya's age. I'm thinking about doing the same to Ryohei. Because that would be fun, and because I have dreams of a ship worth fighting for. *perverted grin***

 ***I felt like this was a little unclear, so I'll specify; in Japan, inaction is the best course of action. It's sick, it's f**ked up, but it's how it works over there. *grumbles sourly* My kingdom for a Gryffindor...**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	7. What He Plans

***sliding dogeza* Thank you so much for reading my story!**

O X O

When Takashi woke up, he was in the infirmary. He wrinkled his nose, hating the slight smell (and feeling) of sickness that always lingered about, and rolled onto his stomach, intending to sleep. Takashi groaned when a beam of light ( _Was the sun setting?)_ hit him in the eyes, and turned onto his other side, eyes firmly closed. Silence descended. Takashi was warm under his infirmary blanket and still a little bit sleepy (though he couldn't remember why), and was starting to dream of eel sushi...

When someone jumped on him, squealing like a pinched pig. Takashi's breath came out in a whoosh, his euphoria fleeing, and he grunted unhappily. He rolled onto his other side, kicking his legs to remove the pest, but the pressure wouldn't go away. "Go away," Takashi grumbled, burying deeper under his blanket. Unfortunately, that revealed Takashi's feet. Takashi had a moment to shiver in dread before finding himself the victim of a tickle attack.

Takashi yelped and floundered, kicking wildly and viciously but unable to get his foot back. He squealed (though Takashi preferred to think of it as a battle cry) and yanked his legs under the blanket, dragging his attacker with him. Under the blanket, Takashi continued to struggle before he finally got a solid hit. Ignoring the sudden (terrifying, worrying) stillness under the blanket, Takashi scrambled to the headboard. He kicked off the blanket, wanting nothing more to do with it.

Takashi was eyeing the blanket warily when someone chuckled. Takashi's head snapped up and he tensed, wary. But the man opposite's smile was nothing to be wary of; if Tsuna radiated sunshine and rainbows, this man's smile radiated unicorns and the actual sun. It was quite difficult to look at straight actually, and Takashi found himself squinting at the man, who was still chuckling. Takashi's guard went down in his confusion (and in the instinctive reaction to such warmth), and that was exactly what Tsuna needed.

Tsuna lunged from beneath the blanket, cackling, and slammed Takashi against the wall. Takashi's head bounced off the hard iron and he curled up, his flying to his head. Already, he could feel a lump forming. But Tsuna wasn't done yet; in revenge, Tsuna jabbed his fingers across Takashi's stomach, and soon found himself in a wriggling, giggling mesh of Takashi. Neither of them could breath, though for entirely different reasons.

"Stop! Stop!" Takashi gasped, unclenching his stomach enough to roll out of Tsuna's range. Tsuna, winded and slightly disorientated, didn't follow. Both of them lay on the bed, tense, and waiting for their breath to even again. Over the sound of their panting, the voice that had been chuckling now guffawed, snorted, and full-on laughed. Takashi and Tsuna lifted their heads to glare at the man, who was sticking his tongue out and clutching his sides in mirth.

"Not funny," Tsuna grumbled, fingering one end of the blanket. Takashi, too winded to say anything, nodded. He blinked, noticing something off, and turned his head towards the corner, where a shadow was seated. Takashi's brow furrowed, his eyes trying to penetrate the deep shadows under the bright window.

"Who are you?" Takashi asked the shadow, his breath evening. The shadow stirred enough to look up, and Takashi saw black-black eyes, like someone had drawn them in charcoal. They studied him, stared deep into his soul, and Takashi couldn't help but wonder if they saw someone adequate. If they saw _Takashi_ , not the annoyed child who had to deal with people's emotional crap all day long and still smile about it. Unbidden, Takashi's lips turned down at the corners, and those charcoal eyes turned away. They stared instead at the man who had laughed so hard, and with a jot Takashi realized those eyes were glaring. They were on fire, and angry.

"If you have nothing else for me to do, I will be on my way," the shadow told the smile-y man, who nodded as the shadow rose and left like a leaf in fall. Takashi watched him go, a little bit of envy preying on his heart. He wished he could move like that, or even just walk out. There was a certain untameable freedom there that Takashi couldn't help but envy.

"That was Hibari Kyouya," the man in the chair said, bringing Takashi (and Tsuna's) attention back to him. The man smiled, a halo of glee and pride burning brightly enough that Takashi had to look away, scared of being burnt away. He listened as the man said, "Hibari-chan is my volunteer nurse. He wants to be a doctor one day, so he has to work hard for it," the man explained, "My name is Sasagawa Ryohei. Most of the kids here call me Sasagawa-sensei. But you guys can call me Ryo-chan!" The man finished, beaming unicorns into existence. Takashi was too distracted by the fact _there was a bloody unicorn prancing about_ to respond, but Tsuna had no such limitations.

He frowned (well, pouted) at Sasagawa-sensei, "So... Sasa-ossan?" Tsu-kun asked, tilting his head cutely. 'Sasa-ossan' laughed loud and hard, a vein throbbing on his forehead.

"Mind your manners," Sasagawa-sensei cautioned, his vein still throbbing (Takashi watched the unicorn go with a relieved sigh), "I'm only twenty-five. I don't deserve the title 'old man'!" Sasa-sensei yelled, standing up and pointing his finger in Tsuna's face. Takashi raised an eyebrow, seeing Tsuna's smirk, and settled back to watch. This was interesting, and Takashi kind of wished he had some sushi to go with the show.

"So..." Tsu-kun blinked his big doe-like eyes, "Sasa-ko*?" Sasa-sensei's eyebrow twitched, and the smile he gave was a tad bit evil.

"I take it back," he said, straining his smile, "You guys need to call me Sasagawa-sensei after all." Takashi watched in amusement, shaking his head as Tsuna's smirk widened. At this point, Sasa-sensei was just playing into Tsu-kun's hands.

Tsu-kun smiled, "So..."

O X O

Kyouya cursed Sasagawa-sensei under his breath. Thanks to the man's incompetence, Kyouya was now being forced to run so he could pick up Kusakabe on the way home. The thought of those dark brown eyes, so curiously similar to his own, filling with tears was enough to get Kyouya picking up his already-rapid pace.

Pedestrians and fellow students parted like water before an angry god as Kyouya rushed out the junior high and towards the kindergarten. Since Namimori's school were all very close together, Kyouya made it with minutes to spare. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood by the gate, a dark shadow waiting for its partner. A few of the other parents backed away from the Hibari, unnerved by his aura, but one man in particular stared hard at Kyouya, a calculating look in those shielded eyes.

Kyouya stared back as long it took the bell to ring, at which point both of them looked across the way, eager to greet their young charges. Kyouya smiled softly when Kusakabe saw him and beamed. Kyouya crouched down by the gate door, smiling at his cousin as Kusakabe bounded over, all sunshine and rainbows. "Nii-chan!" Kusakabe chirped, carefully giving the taller a hug around the neck. Kyouya smiled into Kusakabe's neck, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy and lifting him easily into the air. Kusakabe giggled, content, and snuggled in as Kyouya set him on his arm. They were all set to go home when a shout stopped them

Kyouya turned around to find the man from before glaring at him. He raised an eyebrow at the flashing glasses, distinctly unimpressed. "Can I help you?" Kyouya asked politely, tightening his grip on Kusakabe. If it turned into a brawl, Kusakabe would be Kyouya's top priority, even if that meant turning tail and running. In response, Kusakabe tightened his hold on Kyouya's neck, careful not to restrict Kyouya's breathing.

Kyouya's eyes narrowed in a mirror image as the man opposite. "Yes," the man ground out, "I was wondering if you knew where a young boy named Yamamoto Takashi was? I didn't see him come out," a brief flash of worry rippled over the glasses man's face, too fast for anyone other than Kyouya to notice. The teen sighed, realizing the animosity was just from an overprotective parent.

Kyouya loosened his hold on Kusakabe enough to shrug. "Sorry," he said noncommittally, "I don't know anyone by that name." Kyouya watched resentment flow across that pale face before it was covered up. The man sneered, turned away, and left.

"You can always go looking for him," Kyouya called out, watching as the man paused in his steps for a moment. Kyouya frowned when the man started walking away again. The teen shifted his grip on Kusakabe, revising his opinion of the stranger. No parent would leave a child to wander, not without even a cursory glance. Even Satoshi was better than that, Kyouya thought, smiling down at a pouting Kusakabe, who was asking if they were planning to leave anytime soon. Chuckling, Kyouya murmured an affirmative and started making their way home.

O X O

Tsuyoshi grinned down at Takashi, who was pouting up at his father, though not as much as Tsuna. "Why can't I go home with you?" Tsu-kun whined, having ticked off Sasa-sensei enough for the man to refuse him a ride. Tsuyoshi had agreed to drive both kids home, but separately.

Tsuyoshi chuckled, smiling his eye-smile that always made Takashi suspicious (it usually meant the man was hiding something, and that something was usually emotional baggage that had a bad habit of attacking Takashi at the worst possible moments). "Because your mother will worry about you," Tsuyoshi said gently, still smiling. He blinked when Tsuna's pout worsened into a frown, his eyes darkening.

"She wouldn't miss me," Tsuna said bluntly, squeezing onto Takashi's arm. Takashi looked helplessly up at Tsuyoshi, making 'abort, abort!' motions with his free hand. It took a moment, but Tsuyoshi figured out what all the flailing was about, and then he was all smiles.

"Tsu-chan," Tsuyoshi said warmly, "Why don't you call your mom, just to be sure? Then you can come over to our house. But only for a little while!" Tsuyoshi chuckled warmly, smiling warmly down at his son. "I don't know what I would do if I couldn't eat dinner with Taka-chan," Tsuyoshi said quietly.

Tsuna's shadows deepened, a half-hearted misery niggling at Takashi's senses, but he was so overcome by Tsuyoshi exploding love bombs, Takashi didn't notice the discomfort, especially once Tsuna shoved it back down. Tsuna beamed, sticking his hand out imperatively for Tsuyoshi's phone. Chuckling mildly, Tsuyoshi obediently took out and opened his phone for Tsuna, who quickly dashed through the numbers it took to call home. While they were waiting for Nana to pick up, Tsuyoshi considered what to make for dinner, and Takashi tried (unsuccessfully) to free his arm from Tsuna's vice-like grip.

Finally, Nana picked up. To Takashi and Tsuyoshi, the conversation went like this:

"Ne, Kaa-chan, _watashi wa tomodachi no taku ni ikitai desu. Daijoubu desu ka?_ " /I want to go to a friend's house. Is that okay?/

"..."

" _Aaa, sou desu ka? Ja, watashi wa watashitachi no taku ni ikimasu._ " /Oh, is that right? Well, I'll go to our house./

"..."

" _Hai._ "

"..."

" _Ja shita ne._ " /See you soon./

Tsuna closed the phone, smiling up at the concerned Yamamotos. "I can't go," he said, sounding sad, "My dad's home and he brought his boss around for dinner." Tsuna laughed when he saw the Yamamoto's wide eyes and slack jaws. "What, is it that strange for a man to bring his boss home for dinner*?" Tsuna asked, a teasing smile on his face.

"Your dad must make a lot of money," Tsuyoshi mumbled, still awestruck. Takashi nodded, similarly dazed. Tsuna laughed at them, teasing them for being country bumpkins, which Takashi firmly denied. Tsuyoshi grinned, shepherding them all into his car, and sheepishly admitted that he came from the country. Tsuyoshi laughed nervously when Takashi sent him a betrayed look, Tsuna laughing all the while.

"Like father, like son," Tsuna managed to gasp between guffaws, bringing a flush to Takashi's ears and a laugh to the driver. The drive to Tsuna's house was similarly silly, and by the time Tsuna had to leave, he was thoroughly enthused and content. Just before he left the car, Tsuna threatened the Yamamoto's into having that playdate someday soon. Tsuna smiled when he heard Tsuyoshi laughed and agree over Takashi's grumbling, and slammed the car door, pleased.

The walk up the path to the house was more of a skip, and Tsuna was still smiling when he stepped into the kitchen, his shoes neatly lined up against the wall. But Tsuna's heart dropped down to his feet when he noticed the two men sitting at the kitchen table. One of them, a blond man in his late twenties, bounded over, squealing, 'Tsu-kun~!'

When all of this was over with, Tsuna was going to need that playdate,

O X O

 ***Bosses of companies do invite families to dine with them, but usually it's only executives who do so. Inviting your boss to your house is almost unheard of, outside of close-knit/small companies. By the way, most bosses invite families to their homes to impress them with their skills or wealth. It's a social event I recommend going to, if you ever get the chance; they are the banzai of the banzai.**

 ***facepalms* I am frightened by how the thought of possible romance has sped up my writing pace. I'm also scared of the homework I'm putting off until later. Curse you, Pre-Calc! I wish my teacher would give us the homework beforehand, so I can get it done in class. I spent my free hour writing this story!**

 **Coming soon: A playdate. Also, possibly how Hibari views school life. More will come, dear readers. Good music helps: "Her pepper spray made it rather hard for me to walk her home..." ^-^ Thank you, Owl City!**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	8. What He Experiences

Tsuna left the house as soon as possible. He snuck past the kitchen, where his mother was happily making up a song and breakfast, and left out the front door. There was a stick by the gate that looked nice enough for whacking, but Tsuna left it behind. He was in a foul mood, and he just wanted to get to school. Maybe if he could find Takashi, that horrible, horrible night wouldn't have happened, and Tsuna could reassure himself that it was all just a dream. Takashi wouldn't lie to him. Takashi'd yell at Tsuna for being so silly and then they'd go to his house and there wouldn't be a daddy who cares so little about Tsu-kun he drops him on the floor.

Tsu-kun hiccuped a little, thinking about the big grey bruise all over his tummy. He marched forward, determined to find Takashi, and even more determined not to cry. Well, maybe not to _cry_ per se, 'cause Tsu-kun's eyes are so full he can't see straight, but really crying would mean tears falling and Tsuna doesn't want that and-

 _Wham!_ Tsuna broke and fell backwards on his bum, crying silently. His mouth was sealed shut, it felt like someone had glued his lips together, so Tsu-kun couldn't apologize. He was so sorry, he didn't mean to run into someone, please, Tsu- _kundidn't meantobesomeanpleasedon'tdropme_ \- **"-OI!"**

Tsuna jerked and blinked rapidly, his eyes clearing enough to see that grumpy old man glaring down at him. Tsuna was about to cry some more (in his defense, that glare was really scary), but the old man stopped him by putting a hand on his head. The old man was frowning, but his glare had dropped a notch or two. He shifted awkwardly, offering Tsuna a hanky he hesitantly took. "You done yet?" the man asked gruffly, squatting awkwardly to be at Tsu-kun's level. Tsu-kun blinked at the old man. He didn't have Takashi's gift of empathy, but Tsuna was neither stupid nor insensitive. If someone gets down to your level, offers you a hanky, and stays to make sure you're alright... you must be someone real special. Or just really, really nice.

Tsu-kun blinked slowly, smiled sweetly, and thanked the man. He hopped up off the ground and was around the corner before the old man recovered. Tsuna felt a little bad for manipulating the old man, even worse for being rude to him before, but a lot less in need of Takashi. Tsuna didn't really get it, but his chest felt warm, and his feet felt like flying. There was no way Tsuna could cry now! So saying, Tsuna skipped to school.

O X O

There was a cluster of black-dressed men standing by the gateway to Kyouya's school. To those watching, Kyouya looked impassive; cool, collected, and totally in charge of the situation. On the inside, Kyouya was trying not to sigh. Thankfully, the principal wasn't inclined to blame Kyouya for all these showdowns (thank the gods for that small mercy), but it was getting ridiculous how many grown men were showing up. Kyouya understood when it used to just be junior high kids and teenagers, but _college_ kids and _yakuza_? Where did they find the time for this? Didn't they have work to do?

Kyouya was broken out of his thoughts when one man bellowed to his face, and led the charge. Letting lose his pent-up sigh and his tonfas, Kyouya patiently worked through all the challengers, until there were none standing. Well, aside from Kyouya, who flicked his tonfas clean and stalked off. He had actually been having a pretty good morning (Okaa-sama made tamagoyaki* and Kusa-kun was particularly... sweet) until he'd arrived to see a mass of challengers... all of which were over the age of twenty**. The match afterwards was tiring, but what Kyouya really hated was when-

"Yo!" Sasagawa-sensei greeted, grinning inanely, "You left quite a body count back there," Sasagawa-sensei commented, eyes twinkling at his volunteer. Kyouya resisted the urge to hit him; Sensei'd just twinkle brighter. Nothing excited Sasagawa-sensei much more than a good brawl, which was why (curse upon curses) Sasagawa-sensei stood by the front gate every morning until Kyouya showed up, waiting for the inevitable _matche au foot_ that marked Kyouya's arrival. However, "You know, you could've let them warm up a bit more," Sensei whined, sounding distinctly like a petulant child, "That fight was over in a jiffy!" Sasagawa-sensei exclaimed loudly, drawing attention from other students. Kyouya very carefully did not blush (the fangirls would have a _field day_ ) over the unwanted attention, though he did give into his urge and hit Sasagawa-sensei.

While sensei was rubbing his arm and whining about bruises, Kyouya explained quietly, "If I let the fight drag on, those fools would be back tomorrow. Not to mention," Kyouya continued, giving his petulant sensei a warning glare, "Everyone was already warmed up." Sasagawa-sensei winced a little, taking the point. He grinned.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Sasagawa-sensei laughed, stopping Kyouya in his tracks. His dark glare was enough to send Sasagawa-sensei scuttling, "Sorry, sorry!" he chortled, walking backwards to his office. Kyouya watched him go, glaring all the way, until the annoying man disappeared around the corner. When Sasagawa-sensei was safely out of sight, Kyouya's shoulders slumped and he sighed. Sasagawa-sensei was wrong; a lot got past Kyouya... including how to make friends. Kyouya stared quietly at the door to his homeroom, considering the many students inside that feared him so. Kyouya sighed, collected himself, and reluctantly walked into his classroom.

O X O

Takashi liked to think he had a hella endurance. He could stand to be surrounded by hyperactive kindergarteners, first of all; he could weather the most boring books in the library; he could spend all day walking around town without collapsing; and he could put up with his empathy, even on days when Takashi hadn't slept all too well the night before, nightmares of being alone shaking him awake. But here's the thing: all of these things were done alone. Adding someone to that mix was totally throwing off Takashi's balance, as he was discovering with Tsuna. The kid jumped, screamed, joked, laughed, talked, and played hard enough for ten or twenty Takashi's, and it was exhausting. By the end of the school day, Takashi was seriously considering calling off the playdate.

But neither Tsuyoshi or Tsuna would let Takashi make that call. They both resolutely didn't listen to his arguments; Tsuyoshi was scandalized when Takashi said he wanted to go home alone, and Tsu-kun looked like he was about to cry. That face just wrenched something in Takashi's chest, and before he knew it, he was comforting Tsuna with promises of playing games and making sushi at his house. Takashi didn't know why making sushi was so important to Tsuna, but hey, it was fun (so long as the table and mats were there), so why did it matter? Takashi's approach to the situation pretty much went like that too, after a while. He tried to argue back about buying ice-cream on the walk back home, and experienced a thorough beat-down afterwards.

Thus cowed, Takashi said nothing else on the way home. He lingered at the back of the pack, licking his ice-cream quietly while Tsuyoshi and Tsuna chattered away. Takashi felt something heavy settled over his heart, giving a little squeeze, but watching the others, he couldn't bring himself to ask his father about it. So he ate his ice-cream quietly, threw away the trash, and continued to trail behind the others for the whole walk home.

O X O

Tsuna thought that the playdate was an absolute blast. He couldn't stop beaming and giggling; he got to have a dad! It was only for a little while, but for once Tsu-kun's family had been bigger than the mom who cooked and the dad who worked. It was charming, to say the least. Takashi had been quiet for a while, but warmed up once they started making sushi, and even yelled at Tsuna for rolling his sushi the wrong way***. Tsuyoshi had berated a sheepish and blushing Tsuna afterwards, but Tsuna didn't care. He was too busy beaming and swelling with happiness to give a damn. Tsuna had a brother! A real, blessed brother, who played with him all day and even yelled at him for doing things wrong! There was no plausible way for Tsuna to be happier.

Tsuna practically danced up the front stairs, gliding through the living room and through the back door to the flowering crabapple tree in the back. With a sweet sigh, Tsuna dropped his book bag by the roots and climbed up, up and up. When he was high enough to get dizzy from looking down, Tsuna looked out across the way. He sighed happily, hugging the branch he was on. The landscape wasn't much; grey and blue buildings interrupted by grey roads, blue cars and green shrubbery. But Tsuna loved it up here. Up on top of this shouldering tree, the world was Tsuna's. Across the way, the people and buildings that towered above him before, now cowered below, obedient in their silence. Tsuna smiled and looked up. Up there, there was infinity. Where the sky was big enough to hug everything, and then to keep going. It was the biggest thing Tsuna knew, and he loved it. He wanted to be the sky; never ending, never bowing, always with some boy staring up in awe. Up there, there was nothing to hold Tsuna down, not kaa-chan's with an addiction for mail-hoarding, not tou-san's who left without goodbyes, not a size difference that left him wanting, and certainly not people dropping him like yesterday's old leftovers. Tsuna sighed contently, at peace with the world.

Truth be told though, down under the sky was starting to be pretty great too. Tsuna's smile widened, just thinking about today's playdate, Takashi's grumpy friendship, Tsuyoshi's warm love, and the stranger who'd helped Tsuna dry his tears today. Tsuna still had that hanky, just sitting in his book bag, and that thought had Tsuna squirming, ready to get down. He could always get back up and admire the sky later, with the hanky in his hands.

Tsuna was just starting to get down when he heard someone gasp, far, far below. Tsuna glanced down, curious. His face clouded when he saw his father, who appeared to be yelling something up at Tsuna. Tsu-kun didn't appreciate that. Very deliberately, he turned his head away, focusing instead on getting down. Tsuna extended his left leg, expecting a solid branch to help him down. Unfortunately, since Tsuna wasn't looking down, he didn't notice that the branch that he was stepping on was very slim indeed, and half-way broken. Tsuna, oblivious, put his weight down. He had a split second to hear the silence before he was falling far, far, far below the sky. Tsuna watched the sky disappear, a thick cloud of darkness covering it up.

O X O

Takashi noticed the difference immediately. He grabbed Tsuna by the temples and forced him to look at him. Dull, confused and aching eyes looked back. There was not a firework to be seen and that _terrified_ Takashi. He took Tsuna by the hand, told the teacher that they were going to the infirmary, and left, ignoring the calls and chaos Takashi left behind. Right now, Takashi's whole world was concentrated in the shivering boy behind him, and how to get back the brilliant boy who'd been there not too long ago. Takashi turned into the infirmary, asking firmly for Sasa-sensei.

O X O

 **So, yeah. Tsuna's Flame got sealed. I won't say much more on the subject, since I don't want to ruin the suspense, but let me ask this: do you** ** _really_** **think Takashi's gonna just let his best friend suffer without doing something about it? Seriously, the only times I've seen Takeshi do that in the show was because to help would just make the situation worse, or he didn't know about it. With Takashi's perchance for empathy, Tsuna can't really hide anything. Well, he can hide somethings, but not the intense grief losing the Sky Flame will cause.**

 ***Tamagoyaki is a Japanese omelet. It's rolled up and rectangular, but it's still an omelet. Please don't listen to anyone who says otherwise.**

 ****Twenty is the age of majority in Japan. Wanna know how I know that? I read. I read Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, and I read the editor's note in the side. What, did you guys think I actually look up this stuff? *scoffs* Only when I have to write a story or I'm bored. I'm an otaku at heart~**

 *****You roll sushi the wrong way, and the sushi mat won't roll. Takashi thought Tsuna was an absolute idiot for doing this. Tbh, I kind of do too...**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	9. What He Fights

The old man with gray hair marched across the courtyard and through the entry way, pausing only momentarily to change his shoes. He was a man on a mission, and by god, he was going to fulfill that mission! Shoes safely changed and a manila folder under one arm, the old man walked off.

He strode casually but confidently through the halls, pinning any late-comers with a glare and just frowning at the world in general. He would've liked a little more time to mope and grieve in peace, but his break was over. Work called, and he followed.

The old man stepped smartly up to and through the door of his classroom, his glare and frown already going full-blast. The kids hastily rose and bowed, as was the tradition, before scrambling for their exercise books when the old man dismissed them*, still frowning. Ignoring the desperate searching and whispering going on, the teacher walked up to the board, checked his notes, and then started marking up the board with some basic Italian articles. Underneath each article, the old man put two blank dashes. Preparation finished, he put the chalk down, smacked his hands once to clean them, and turned towards the class.

They were all staring at him intently, pens and pencils poised over a clean sheet of paper, their homework resting in comfortable closeness. The teacher heaved a great sigh. _So many pansies_ , he thought, a trite uncomfortable. As he called up an unlucky volunteer to translate Italian to Japanese, the old man couldn't help but wonder how quickly these guys would've gone down in a gun fight. He tries to ignore that part of him; instead, he gets cranky when his kids don't know _il_ from _lo_ **, and spends the rest of class teaching what should've been learned already. By the time the bell rang for the break, the old man was exhausted. He just wanted to go home, lie down, and not think about anything other than his Home, where things were different. Less… mundane.

Sighing, the old man set off for the infirmary. He had a free period now, and then another class to teach. It wasn't possible for him to go home and just quit for the day, but he could certainly quit for an hour. Maybe then he could get through a lesson without yelling at someone. Feeling a little more optimistic, the old man picked up the pace. He walked quickly through the halls, glaring at the kids he saw just arriving, and made his way to the infirmary. In front of the infirmary, the old man could hear someone talking. He stopped, uncomfortable to walk in and uncomfortable to walk away. So he listened.

O X O

Takashi was really, really getting tired of being an empath. It wasn't dealing with children that was the hardest, no, children wore their hearts on their sleeves (mostly) and Takashi would've known how they were feeling anyway. The kids his age never thought any less of him, because he was still the same age as them, had success in the ways their parents had taught them success was, and generally didn't bother anyone. That was enough for kids.

But adults? They never stopped questioning, never started believing, and watching their emotions fluctuate cruelly behind sugary tones just made Takashi's head hurt. He didn't know why he ever thought that the school nurse would be any better.

Instead of noticing that Tsuna was in a really bad slump, and not your normal slump either, the nurse was trying to get them back to class. Well, get Takashi back to class. Tsuna, she just wanted to cuddle to death. "Awww, you're so cute!" The nurse cooed at Tsuna, pinching his cheeks with manicured nails. If he was more self-aware, Tsu-kun probably would've been wincing. Since he was so out of it, Takashi shuddered and wince for the both of them.

" _Onee-san_ ***," Takashi tried, "Tsu-kun is really hurt, can we please-"

"No, you may not," the nurse told him curtly, her eyes narrowed. Even she, it seemed was starting to find this bickering act repetitive. Unconsciously, the nurse's sharp nails dug into Tsuna's cheeks, eliciting a wince from Takashi and, surprisingly, Tsuna himself.

" _Nee-chan_ ," Tsu-kun mumbled, a pout on his lips and his eyes damp, "It hurts…" Immediately, the nurse sprung back, rambling wildly and scampering off for a Band-Aid. At the same time, Takashi's heart leapt and he latched onto Tsuna's arm.

"Tsu-kun?" Takashi asked, hopeful that pain, however unintentional, had brought his friend back. Takashi's heart sank when Tsu-kun eyes glazed over, distant and miserable. There was enough self-preservation to get the nurse off his back at least, and Takashi took the offered chance gladly.

Takashi snuck a peak over at the nurse, who was humming something off-key and shaking her hips from he could see. She must be summoning an army of Band-Aids, Takashi deduced, and quickly pulled Tsuna off the infirmary bed. If the nurse had minions, many minions, then Takashi didn't want to be here when they arrived. Takashi snuck out the side door, Tsuna in one hand and the junior high in mind.

O X O

Tsu-kun doesn't remember much of the day. Or even the night. He just remembers flying, and falling, and somehow dying(?) Tsu-kun wonders if it's all a dream, but every time he tries to wake up, all he does is fall harder. It's just, so… cold. Behind him is something colder, and so Tsu-kun hunkers his shoulders and wanders off, drifting off towards a beacon he doesn't even know. Time is tricky and disappears under Tsu-kun's feet. He trips and falls, and before he knows it, the beacon from before is rippling, rippling and shining brighter than ever before. Tsu-kun squints, trying not to go blind. He can see that scares his beacon, so he slowly wraps his beacon in a hug that leaves him giggling and feeling warmer than before.

Tsu-kun doesn't resist when his beacon pushes him off. He's still giggling, although now it's more because he's never met a blue flame so pretty and able to turn purple on command. Tsu-kun giggles, and obligingly drifts off. This feels familiar, but for the life of him Tsu-kun can't remember when or why he did this before. From deep inside him, Tsu-kun feels something stoney start to move, to thump heavily, and then Tsu-kun is curled up again, shivering against the cold. It's… so… cold. Bleakly, Tsu-kun wonders if his beacon will come back. Tsu-kun curls up some more, not expecting much.

Tsu-kun blinks in surprise, watching as the darkness fades a little bit. He looks up, noticing that his beacon is back. It's back to being blue again, blue like the sea on a warm, sunny day, and Tsu-kun feels warm again. Unbidden, he can feel a smile on his face, but he doesn't fight it. Tsu-kun feels light enough and warm enough to float up from his miserable posture. He notices that his beacon brought along some friends, and Tsu-kun can't help but get curious. He wonders if these flames will be his friends too.

Tsu-kun giggles cutely, the action ringing with so many untold memories, and he drifts closer to another one of those flames. This one is a pretty sun color, like the great ball of orange and yellow Tsu-kun sometimes draws in class when it's time for art. Tsu-kun giggles, watching the sun-flame flicker and wallow in the darkness. He takes pity on the sun, wrapping it up in a hug so cold he feels certain that the sun will hate him. But the sun is warm and greedy, and before he knows it, Tsu-kun's been consumed. He gasps, and jerks, and just kind of relaxes. He's not nearly as cold as he was before, and the sun flame feels as happy about that as Tsu-kun does.

Eager for more warmth (and friends), Tsu-kun spins around in space, staring hungrily at the purple-blue beacon. Tsu-kun doesn't know how he knows, but he knows that that look scares the pretty flower blooming his darkness, and so he relaxes some more. He doesn't giggle, feels too warm to bother, but he does smile, happy, cheerfully, innocently. The purple-blue flame wavers in the abyss, wanting to come closer but scared to burn Tsu-kun. Tsu-kun smiles sweetly. _"It's okay,"_ Tsu-kun murmurs, drifting forward. The flames wavers some more indecisively, giving Tsu-kun the time to get closer, before surprising him by bumping into Tsu-kun chest at the last moment. Tsu-kun gasps and grasps at the darkness, righting himself and setting himself down on the ground he didn't even notice until now.

Tsu-kun's beacon pulses brightly, lighting up the darkness by Tsu-kun's feet, and he notices something else. Down there, barely glowing but still irrevocably _there_ , is a scarlet flame so bright and beautiful Tsu-kun can't help but get entranced. The flames inside him squirm a little, making room and lending Tsu-kun the help he needs. He's still a novice at this whole 'making friends' business after all. Carefully, the purple-blue flame helps Tsu-kun sit down next to the pretty scarlet flame, extending his arm so that when the sun flame flares, the heat lands right on the scarlet flame. At first, Tsu-kun's stomach drops to his feet and he thinks he's killed the pretty scarlet flame, as it's only a faded ember right now. But then the flame explodes into a storm of red and heat, sucking Tsu-kun right in and warming his bones.

He feels stronger now, strong enough to get up without help. His flames linger on the edges of perception, ready to help if need be. Somehow, Tsu-kun gets the impression that the scarlet storm flame's smug, smug about being able to help Tsu-kun when the others couldn't. The other flames bluster about, working themselves into a fit Tsu-kun can't soothe, when his beacon swoops in. The beacon scolds the others, sucking in enough of their flames to make them feel contrite, before turning to Tsu-kun. Tsu-kun wants to laugh at the puckered face his beacon his making, its fiery mouth full of different colors, but the beacon turns around before Tsu-kun can laugh. He giggles though, because he can still see his beacon's discoloration through the back, even though the flame went through the trouble of turning around. Tsu-kun won't laugh though.

Instead, Tsu-kun gasps, watching in wonder as the beacon _bellows_ flame, lighting up the darkness enough for Tsu-kun to see the distant spark on the horizon. Worried and excited, Tsu-kun breaks off, running towards the new flame. He can feel his beacon dutifully following him, a certain sadness in its movements that Tsu-kun's other flames are trying (and failing) to soothe. Tsu-kun's beacon just sighs and suddenly zips in front of Tsu-kun, stopping him from moving forward. Tsu-kun pouted, frowning at the beacon. Why couldn't he reach the other, surely just as pretty, flame?

In response, the blue-blue flame forces itself brighter, even without the help of the others, and suddenly Tsu-kun can _see_. See that there is a wall between the other flame and he. He frowns, reaching forward to touch the clear, thick wall, watching as the distorted flame beyond floated up to eye-level, watching back. Then Tsu-kun's fingertip touches the wall and he _recoils_ , flinching away from the wall and curling up around his cold-cold finger. His flame friends have all been forced out, leaving Tsu-kun trembling and cold all over again, trembling and miserable and weak and done. He was spent, tired beyond all his years, and he just wants to sleep before going to home, back to his ditzy mother and absent father, back to the grandfather that wasn't his grandfather, and where none of his friends could save him from the cold.

Tsu-kun's beacon seems determined to defy that. With an extra-bright spark, gathering the others and mourning the lost flame, Tsu-kun's beacon charges. He charges right into Tsu-kun's face, leaving it fresh and warm and… wet? Tsuna blinked, and blinked some more, staring up at Takashi, who looked like he had been crying. "You were dead," Takashi tells Tsuna, big fat tears still falling, and Tsuna understands. He takes Takashi in his arms, closes his eyes, and tries to soothe the agony of fear that is pulsing off his best friend right now. Tsu-kun tightens his hug, and says nothing.

O X O

 **So, yeah. Tsuna was pretty out of it. Any guesses what happened? Who the old man from the beginning is? Review to let me know what you think!**

 ***Japan has a really cool school system where, when the teacher walks into the classroom, the students rise, bow, and only sit down when the teacher tells them to. I kinda want to write a series where a teacher didn't let them sit down for the whole hour… I wonder how that would turn out… *trails off, thinking seriously***

 ****I don't f**king know Italian. I just looked up Italian grammar, compared it to French, and went from there. A shout-out to my girlfriend; if you have edits for my use of Italian, please tell me so I can fix it.**

 *****Yes, this is usually translated to 'sister', but I didn't translate it to that for a couple reasons. First, we're all otaku and I feel the nickname would've come already at least once. Second, it isn't translated to 'sister' in this context. In this context, it's more like Takashi/Tsuna are calling the nurse 'miss.' Now that I think about it, that must've been really annoying (correct honorific: -sensei).**

 **Please keep reading; I did a holiday special!**


	10. CHRISTMAS SPECIAL 2015

**Warning: TYL!All**

O X O

"It's Christmas Eve!" Sasagawa-sensei squeals, bouncing off the walls with his flames and giving everyone a headache. But while Tsuna and Takashi console themselves with their favorite treats and each other's company, Kyouya goes after the source of the problem. He's in a foul mood, having helped Kusakabe through a particularly nasty bout of influenza. About halfway through last night, while Kyouya was sleeping on a futon in Kusakabe's bedroom, Kusakabe woke up vomiting. He wouldn't stop vomiting and couldn't go back to sleep either, so poor Kyouya had to help the even poorer Kusakabe through a long night of stomach-convulsions and misery. Needless to say, Kyouya's patience nor his mood had improved since then.

Sasagawa-sensei whooped, boundless with glee, as he bounded off to escape his boyfriend's wrath. Tsuna sighed, watching them go, and hoped to god that they wouldn't destroy a part of his mansion. _Again_. Tsuna sighed again, accepting Takashi's empathetic pat with grace. "So," Tsuna asked, turning around, "You ready to give away your Secret Santa?" Tsuna smirked when Takashi paled, returning the empathetic pat with vigor. Takashi sighed forlornly, gazing at Tsuna's golden package with envy. Tsuna got Sasa-sensei, who was an easy target for gifts. Get him just about anything and Sasa-sensei would be ecstatic. Morosely, Takashi wondered how'd he ended up with _Mukuro_ , of all people, as his gift target.

Brainstorming hadn't been hard, but finding something Mukuro wanted without being illegal? Nigh on impossible. Takashi had searched long and hard for a clue of Mukuro's gift inclinations (barely escaping with his virginity intact, too), searched longer and harder for something that he could buy, and finally settled on something Takashi bought months ago (intended for Mukuro's birthday, actually) along with something handmade. Tsuna helped with that last bit, once he found out how much trouble Takashi was having with his Secret Santa (well, after Tsuna stopped laughing; that was something that never changed, never mind how many years passed).

Suddenly, the lights went out. Takashi tensed, listening intently for enemies, ready to fight if need be. The Christmas tree had been unlit for exactly for this reason; Takashi could sense his enemies better if there weren't happy-go-lucky memories trying to assault him every time he went near them. To this day, Takashi cannot stand to be alone with Sasa-sensei; his unicorns had only gotten bigger and more fierce in their affection, tackling Takashi to the floor for no particular reason while Sasa-sensei laughed over his head, as unhelpful as ever.

"Your back is wide open," someone breaths, and Takashi _bolts_ , jumping up and away as fast and far as he can. When the lights come back on, Takashi finds himself clutching Gokudera-sensei, who looked decidedly unpleased to have an urchin clutching his foam-covered stomach. On the other side of the room, Mukuro and Tsuna broke into conniving giggles, watching as Takashi extracted himself from the unimpressed Gokudera-sensei, blushing brightly.

"You look nice," Takashi mumbled to Gokudera-sensei, trying to distract the others, and cursing himself for falling back on bad habits. Gokudera-sensei raised an eyebrow, still unimpressed.

"If you think being complimented for being fat and a pedophile makes me feel better," Gokudera-sensei informed his errant student, "You've got another think coming." Gokudera was still skeptical about Santa Claus being as jolly a good fellow as the rest of them.

Takashi flushed, a fake smile creeping over his face, while Tsuna whined, "But you're a jolly good fellow! Gokudera!" Gokudera snorted, his fingers twitching to take off his costume, but respectful enough not to directly defy his boss. He tried wheedling instead.

Meanwhile, Mukuro had used his (unfair) teleporting technique to pop right up in Takashi's personal space, restraining the teen with a tight hug and purring into his ear, "Now, now, no plastic Barbie moments in front of Tsu-kun, now, you hear me?" Mukuro cooed, sending shudders and goosebumps down Takashi's arms. He hastily separated from Mukuro, a mulish frown replacing the fake smile from before, and narrowed his eyes at his fellow Guardian. Mukuro laughed, loud and clear, before leaving Takashi to mind-f**k himself. Takashi was great at that, Mukuro knew, approaching the arguing boss and subordinate.

Mukuro cough delicately, catching the attention of the others. He smiled sweetly, a trick he picked up from Tsuna, and offered Gokudera-sensei his present. To his horror, Takashi noticed that it was a deep, sapphire blue, marking it as his. He died a little inside, watching Mukuro smoothly hand over his present for the Secret Santa rounds. Gokudera-sensei snorted rudely, sending a pitying look Takashi's way, before busying himself with the collecting of other presents.

When Mukuro saw a dazed Takashi drop his pale violet present into Gokudera-sensei's sack, he smirked. "Why, Takashi," he cooed, "I didn't know you cared~~!" Mukuro's smirk only grew when Takashi choked on his spit, his face burning brightly. Takashi blamed hormones and spent the next hour beating a horny Mukuro back with a stick. By the time Secret Santa time had come, Takashi was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep until morning, when all this craziness will died down back to the normal levels.

But Takashi couldn't sleep through Santa time, so he stalked away from Mukuro and put a grouchy Kyouya between them. Kyouya was still pissed about last night and about his resulting failure to catch Sasagawa-sensei. Distantly, Takashi could hear Tsuna crying about repair bills. He deliberately didn't look down the hall, for fear of seeing the god of destruction.

Sasagawa-sensei was still bouncing around, just tempting Kyouya to catch him, so Takashi hastily started a conversation about college, hoping to stave off Kyouya's temper long enough for Gokudera-sensei/Santa to make it up the stairs. By the time Santa/Gokudera-sensei had appeared, huffing and puffing from the long walk around (the elevator must've been knocked out by Kyouya, Takashi notes), Kyouya's calmed down enough to sit down next to Takashi in the circle, Sasagawa-sensei a mere two seats away.

Amidst jeers about his age and feisty comebacks, Santa/Gokudera-sensei disperses the various presents from his rugsack. Then he sits down (heavily, into a padded chair), and they all wait for him to unwrap his present. The order was oldest to youngest; their unspoken thanks to Gokudera for agreeing to play Santa with the kids for another year.

With agonizing slowness, Gokudera-sensei peels back the rosy red paper, taking care with each folded corner and piece of tape until even Takashi feels like wrenching the gift out of his hands and tearing the paper to shreds. Then Gokudera-sensei smirks, lets the remaining corners go, and everyone leans in to see what Gokudera-sensei got.

Sasagawa-sensei chuckles nervously, scratching his cheek awkwardly, as everyone's jaw drops. Everyone snaps their head to stare at Sasagawa-sensei, then back at the present, then back to Sasagawa-sensei. Sasagawa-sensei clears his throat, trying to explain, "You said you wanted a real razor, not the ones they sold cheap in grocery stores and rusty at antique shops," Sasagawa-sensei mumbles, looking embarrassed. Kyouya sighs, leans over, and drags his boyfriend into a kiss that leaves Sasagawa-sensei flushed and flustered, with everyone else smiling down on the cute couple.

"Thanks, kids," Gokudera-sensei tells them, and then quickly leaves, dodging Sasagawa-sensei's sputtering shouts of 'I'm not a kid! I'm almost forty!' and a few playful illusions. Gokudera heads towards the bathroom, fully intending to shave the beard that got him nailed as 'Santa' in the first place. Gokudera-sensei shuts the door behind him, leaving the kids to their fun.

It's Sasagawa-sensei's turn now, and Tsuna (not to mention everyone else in the room) watches in anticipation as Sasagawa-sensei tears off the golden wrapping. Grins break out everywhere when Sasagawa-sensei yells loudly, overjoyed to have a new pair of sun-yellow boxing gloves. When Sasagawa-sensei excitedly challenges Kyouya to a fight (Kyouya actually looks tempted), Tsuna knocks his shoulder into Mukuro's and teases the man into opening his present. Mukuro toys with them all a bit, wondering out loud if they should wait for the fight to finish, but after Takashi shots him a Look, Mukuro smiles and starts opening his present. He's chuckling the whole time, enjoying the tension and attention, but Mukuro stops when he sees Takashi's present. It's in a box, so no one else can see what it is, but Mukuro and Takashi know exactly what it is. And when Mukuro looks over at him, something shocked and crinkling and so, so vulnerable in his eyes, Takashi can't help but smile.

Tsuna leaps to his feet, determined to find out what is messing his Guardians up so much, but before he can see, Mukuro has already covered the box in illusions, laughing at Tsuna's pout. By the time the illusions have been broken (which took no time at all, after so many years of knowing Mukuro), the box is gone and Mukuro is wearing his usual, creepy smile, just daring everyone to search him for his present.

Since respect is big for this family (and Mukuro in particular), Tsuna sits back and refuses to let anyone else search for the gadget. Instead, he starts opening his present, which is a good strategy for getting the spotlight off Takashi and Mukuro, who both relax. Mukuro winks over Tsuna's head (who's ignoring both of them right now), and chuckles when Takashi studiously looks elsewhere. Neither of them comment on Takashi's blush or the present he gave.

Tsuna lets out a shout of surprise and excitement, bringing his Guardians back to reality, as he leapt from his chair to glomp Kyouya (who looked very, very uncomfortable, but stuck with it; he has two major hug-addicts in his life, he might as well get used to it). Those of good hearing politely ignored Tsuna's repeated thanks, merely smiling when Tsuna proudly showed off the kimono Kyouya had gotten him. It was a piece of home that Tsuna could definitely use in real life, so the thanks he had given Kyouya was well-warranted. Out of all the Vongola, Kyouya and Tsuna (surprise, surprise!) were probably the ones who missed Namimori the most.

Tsuna beamed at Kyouya, practically bouncing in his seat as Kyouya unwrapped his present carefully, though not as carefully or slowly as Gokudera-sensei. For his part, Gokudera-sensei slipped into his seat, his bushy beard successful murdered, mumbling a question. In response, Mukuro, who was closest, pointed at Kyouya. Gokudera-sensei's mouth formed a little 'o' as Kyouya finally got to the heart of the package. There was a flicker of surprise followed by gratitude, which was aimed at Gokudera-sensei. Gokudera-sensei smiled back, watching as Kyouya regally showed off the medicine bottle, a medicine inside that could heal Kusakabe of his weak immune system. Kyouya tucked it away for safe keeping, smiling once more at Gokudera in thanks, before the attention turned to Takashi, who was the youngest (Tsuna went before because he needed to save Mukuro _somehow_ ), and sweating nervously.

Takashi ripped the paper of the top of his present, eager to get out of the limelight, but stopped short when he saw the present. Carefully, tenderly, he took out the small bauble Mukuro had created, if the sheen of the glass jar was anything to go by. But the cherry blossom inside was untouched, a singular beauty that reminded Takashi equally of home in Namimori and home here. He smiled at Mukuro, laid the necklace carefully around his neck, and then the real party got started.

Takashi passed out a few hours later, exhausted but happy. Overhead, Mukuro chuckled tenderly, fingering the Christmas present he had stowed in his coat pocket. "Merry Christmas, my little empath," Mukuro cooed, for once neither creepy nor a bastard. Dead to the world, Takashi remained unaware of Mukuro's feelings.

O X O

 **Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.**


	11. What He Notices

In the relatively safe peace of his illusionary garden, Kawahira considered his options over a cup of tea. Each sip went hand in hand with each thought, until Kawahira had run out of sips to take and thoughts to think. Kawahira sighed and put the tea cup to the side. "There is no way around it," he acquiesced quietly, ignoring the listening flowers that stuttered and shifted a little closer.

Kawahira frowned and waved a hand, bringing up a map of sorts, a map Checkerface couldn't see. The apparition fluttered agitatedly, trying to piece together what Kawahira's mumblings meant. But for all the innocence a flower projects, it's absolutely pants at listening. Checkerface strained at its roots, trying to get close enough to at least see the map, but it was an exercise in madness; plants cannot move.

Kawahira finished what he was doing (whatever it was), and stood to leave, the map disappearing like smoke. Kawahira smiled wanly as he shimmered out of the garden, pleased with himself. At this point, Checkerface didn't know what was going to happen, only that something was going to happen. And by the time Checkerface knew what was up, well, there would be nothing the spirit could do. Kawahira marched on, his distant smile sharp, his pieces starting to move. The game was on.

O X O

Reborn stared at his phone for a moment, struck dumb. The wineglass he had held loosely in one hand was now on the verge of falling. Suddenly, fingers clenched, knuckles turned white, and the wineglass almost shattered. "That bastard," Reborn murmured darkly, taking a swig from his drink while sending out rapid-fire texts to the rest of the Acrobaleno. Reborn continued to take long and vicious sips of his drink, one eye on his phone, waiting for confirmation. It came, moments later, causing Reborn to curse in several different languages and with illustrating hand-gestures.

Grumbling all the while, Reborn turned towards his errant student. "I'll be back," he said darkly (scaring the pants off Dino in the process), before changing his Leon-phone into a Leon-gun. Reborn marched off, determined not to be late to this meeting.

O X O

"Time's up, pencils down," the gruff older sensei said, pulling sighs from his students as they obediently put their pencils down and sent their quizzes to the front. Ignoring the slight moans and whispers of displeasure (the students were barely back, and yet already they were being tested), the gray-haired sensei took the sheets and stacked them on his desk. When he looked up, every eye was on him, particularly a dark pair in the back.

Gokudera-sensei cleared his throat and turned his back on the students. He took a piece of chalk from the hanger below the board, and began to write. Smooth lines mixed with short taps filled the board and eventually the room; the students quieted in curiosity. Gokudera-sensei moved through the silence and across the board, writing out a long stream of Italian he doubled back to translate into Japanese underneath. When he was done, Gokudera-sensei smacked the chalk powder from his hands and turned to face the class. "That's your homework," he said shortly, turning his back on the shouts and moans of displeasure. "It's due next week," Gokudera-sensei threw over his shoulder, appeasing the few and worrying the many.

Gokudera-sensei sat down at his desk, pulled the stack of quizzes towards him, and decidedly ignored the rest of the class. A few kids got the message and starting working on the assignment, but the vast majority turned to talk to their neighbors. Over the sounds of complaining, Gokudera-sensei ticked decisively over wrong answers and swirled around good ones. He was sad to notice that there weren't a lot of good answers, nor did any of the (currently) failing students come up to ask for help on the homework.

Gokudera-sensei sighed and moved onto the next paper as the bell rang, expecting for this unexpected peace to continue. But it did not; "Sensei," someone said quietly, pulling Gokudera's attention away from his (frankly, dismal) work. The teacher stiffened when he noted Hibari Kyouya-kun*, but he met the even gaze with steel. Hibari-kun didn't twitch. "The homework," he said, still maintaining the quiet edge, as he handed a stunned Gokudera the finished exercises. Gokudera's jaw was on the ground long enough for Hibari-kun to get to the door without interference.

HIbari-kun paused by the doorway. He said quietly, "I didn't know you could do CPR," leaving Gokudera-sensei in silence.

Gokudera's jaw shut with a quiet click. "Yeah," he muttered, turning back to his papers, "I can." The silence was maddening.

O X O

Reborn glared across the table. Skull squeaked and ducked, looking for all the world like he would rather be anywhere than here. Reborn threw a pastry at him (proving Skull's point in the process) and turned towards the rest, a nasty look on his face. "Where. Is. He?" Reborn demanded, his dark eyes flickering over the room in the hopes of trying to find his adversary.

Fong merely smiled. "Not here," he chirped, looking for all the world like a child told it was time to eat. Reborn growled and threw another pastry at Skull, who squeaked again and dove out of the way. There was now a hole in the wall. The Acrobaleno ignored it.

O X O

Sasagawa-sensei fiddled absently with a pen, his eyes roaming over the paperwork he needed to fill, but his attention not there. No, his attention was on the little boy behind him (both boys, actually), and the mysterious trauma that almost took Tsuna-chan's life.

The twirling motion of the pen stopped. Sasagawa-sensei's finger slipped a little along the edge of the pen, sweat and pressure not mixing well. Oblivious, Sasagawa-sensei stared down at his paperwork, the look in his eyes intent. There was something wrong here, something terribly, terribly wrong, but for the life of him, Sasagawa-sensei couldn't figure what. He wondered if he wanted to know. The pen-twirling started again, as Sasagawa-sensei's thoughts drifted.

The first time he got to know the kids, Sasagawa-sensei thought that they were just normal, bratty kids being kids. They disobeyed authority, they teased, they played, and they climbed. Well, Sasagawa-sensei didn't really know if kids did that (by the time he was taking care of Kyoko-chan by himself, she was old enough and mature enough not to be considered a 'kid'), but he'd like to think that a normal childhood was a happy one, full of family and friends.

Sasagawa-sensei's grip on his pen tightened.

But… where were those family and friends? There were contacts in the school registry Sasagawa-sensei had called, but once she knew that Tsuna-chan was alright, Sawada-san gave him full responsibility of her child, and hung up not soon after (though not before someone's drunken mumblings of love broke through, incurring two very different emotions in the two listeners). Taka-chan's father, Yamamoto-san, hadn't answered the phone.

Sasagawa-sensei's finger slid up the pen's side to the top, where it started ruthlessly pushing up and down. The quick and quiet clicking couldn't be heard over the little boys talking (well, Tsuna-chan trying to coerce Taka-chan into telling the whole story, but Sasagawa-sensei was too out of his head to notice). Sasagawa-sensei's frown deepened.

There was also the matter of the worryingly large bruise on Tsuna-chan's stomach. Sasagawa-sensei was reluctant to admit that he only noticed the bruise when Gokudera-sensei started to perform CPR (a worrying and possibly illegal act in itself) and needed to take off Tsuna-chan's shirt. The doctor was ashamed to admit that, if Tsuna-chan hadn't thrown that fit when Sasagawa-sensei went to touch him, he never would have even come up with the questions he was currently asking.

The clicking stopped.

How did Tsuna-chan get that big bruise on his stomach? Why did Tsuna-chan have such an adverse reaction to an adult's touch? Why was Taka-chan so quiet? Why didn't either of their parents ask these questions? For the sake of all those involved, Sasagawa-sensei hoped that this was all just a coincidence. Otherwise…

The clicking started up again.

O X O

"Tsk, tsk," someone clucked, bringing attention to the hole in the wall, "You really need to control that temper of yours, Sun Acrobaleno." As one, the Acrobaleno tensed and turned towards the hole in the wall; Reborn was not the only one looking for enemies.

A cough. "Ah, down here," the voice said, bringing Acrobaleno attention away from the hole in the wall and back towards their table. A man in a green kimono and wearing glasses smiled at his audience. "Oh, no need to be so tense," he reassured them, chuckling lightly as he said so. No one moved. Kawahira snorted, muttering a 'figures' under his breath, as he brought out a case file.

"I have a job for you," Kawahira told the Acrobaleno, his eyes and posture deadly serious, "How well can you speak Japanese?"

O X O

 **I am so done with this. This chapter came out messily and barely on time; I don't/didn't have enough time to clean it up. *sighs* So please excuse the mess. *rubs eye sleepily* Oh, yeah, there was a note I wanted to put in…**

 ***Teachers in Japan attach the honorific '-kun' to their student's last names in order to bring about a (fake) relationship of closeness. How many of you have seen those creepy anime sensei's that talk about how their students can come to them for anything? This honorific is part of it. Another part is just tradition.**

 **I didn't make a note of it, but I would like to explain. Where I live, it's… a bad idea to give CPR to someone if you don't have certification or a license to do so. I don't live in Japan, so I don't know if it's the same, but I thought it was a nice way to show Gokudera-sensei's character.**

 **So, yeah, the Acrobaleno are coming. Imma get some shut-eye before I try conquering that particular beast. *walks off to watch Durarara and eat***

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	12. What He Protects

The plane touched down quietly. Its tail wobbled a little on the way down the runway, but overall, the ride was smooth. A ramp was hurriedly connected to the side of the plane, giving its passengers time to pack up and the ability to hide behind a closed-in passage. No one knew who had gotten off the plane, for as soon as it was possible to see their faces, the passengers disappeared. This caused quite a ruckus with the terminal staff, as you can probably tell. Passengers suddenly disappearing into thin air bodes poorly for the plane and terminal that served them.

O X O

"C'mon Taka-chan," Tsu-kun whined, "Tell me what happened!" Tsu-kun pouted when Takashi didn't outwardly react. Takashi was still sitting on the edge of Tsuna's bed, about three feet away, and as silent as when he first moved there. It made Tsu-kun mad. Tsuna just wanted his friend to talk to him! And, well, what better topic than Tsuna's ( _most_ ) recent brush with death? Tsuna's pout pulled down at the corners, turning into a frown. His friend wasn't talking to him. That hurt. And that made Tsu-kun angry.

"Takashi!" Tsu-kun exclaimed, getting the attention of both the boy and the teacher, "What. Happened." Tsu-kun's glare was toxic, but it didn't have the effect he wanted it to.

Takashi shuddered and move backwards some more, trying to avoid the giant purple-black pythons Tsuna was sending his way. Takashi ducked under one particularly nasty attack, and scuttled back on his hands and heels. His butt hit the base of the bed. With no other choice, Takashi bowed his neck, brought his legs up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his midsection. He tried not to hear the whooshing sound the pythons made as they hissed through the air.

The whooshing stopped.

Carefully, timidly, Takashi peaked out from under an elbow. He cramped and cramping, but he didn't want to get hit. He didn't want to be hurt.

As Takashi looked at his friend, his eyes were undeniably wary. It made Tsuna stop and stare. Tsu-kun tried to take over again, to make the situation better (or at least ease the ache in their chest), but Tsuna was firmly in place. His hands were trembling. _I did that... ?_ Tsuna stared, wide-eyed, at the fetal position his ( _best_ ) friend had assumed. Tsu-kun jerked forward, going for a hug, but watching Takashi _flinch_ stopped Tsuna in his tracks. His eyes wide, his shoulders twitching minutely, and halfway to his ( _best_ ) friend, the blanket under Tsuna burned. He couldn't move; couldn't speak. Takashi was in a similar state.

The door opened.

Both boys jerked to look at the newcomer (watching Takashi's head twist inhumanly as he held himself in place, eyes weaving about, made Tsuna's gut twist), who paused in the doorway, one hand on the knob. He smiled coolly, a warm light shining from somewhere behind glaring glasses (the noon sun was shining proudly in through the open window), and said, "Am I interrupting something?"

Takashi uncoiled. The cramps that had formed settled into the background as he smiled at Kawahira-san. "No," he said softly, relaxing some more. Tsuna's breath came in deeply and almost touched the pain that flared below. As Takashi welcomed 'Kawahira-san', Tsuna retreated. Not even Tsu-kun could break the fog that had become his reality. Takashi, with his head turned and attention on Kawahira-san (who was offering him the next edition of Gintama), didn't notice. Sasagawa-sensei was just as guilty. He was distracted by the newcomer and the effect he had on Takashi; the school nurse couldn't stop asking question after question.

But Kawahira, bogged down by questions and adoration and social niceties, noticed. He smiled at the boys, walked across the room, and sat down on the bed. "And you? Who might you be?" Kawahira asked kindly, dispelling Tsuna's inattention. All eyes were on Tsuna now, and the attention almost brought Tsu-kun flying to the surface. But Tsuna fought him down ( _he didn't need the extra addition that would warrant_ ).

Tsuna looked Kawahira-san in the eye (well, glasses). "My name is Sawada Tsunayoshi," he said clearly, "It's very nice to meet you." Tsuna watched Kawahira-san warily, waiting for a comment that would alienate the boy (and then he could go back to being with Takashi and Tsu-kun), but it never came.

Kawahira-san smiled, "It's nice to meet you too," he said kindly. Tsuna blinked and watched Kawahira-san ask Takashi if he had the first volume of Gintama. Takashi glared with only partial ire before he produced not only the first volume of Gintama, but the following three editions. Tsuna could only stare at the lonely book bag and wonder how it had managed to keep so many books inside. But then Kawahira-san was smiling again and asking if Tsuna had ever read Gintama before. Tsuna shook his head, sending shockwaves through the others, and resulting in a day filled with hilarity, laughter, and strawberry milk.

O X O

Tsuyoshi paused in his work. He stared blankly down at his board, looking for all the world as if someone had just told him he was not male, but rather, female. One of the regulars frowned and leaned over. "Yamamoto-san?" He asked, "Are you all right?"

The customer's words brought Tsuyoshi back to life. "Ah," he smiled sheepishly, bringing up a messy hand to rub the back of his head, "I was thinking-"

"Yamamoto-san! Your hand! Hand!" the customer yelped, interrupting Tsuyoshi's words and actions.

Tsuyoshi's eyes widened. "Crap!" he yelped, yanking his hand away from his beautiful hair. He turned a pale face on the seated regular. "Thank you," Tsuyoshi said seriously, shuddering to think what the fish guts would've done to his beautiful silky hair. The regular in question sweatdropped.

"Aaah," he said, waving it away with one hand, "It's fine." The customer sweatdropped when Tsuyoshi yelped and began to rant about the horrors of fish guts in his hair. _Why are you so obsessed with your hair... ?_ Tsuyoshi, mid-rant, didn't notice the sentiments.

O X O

The small child on the roof sighed quietly in relief. " _Dios mio,_ " they murmured, settling themselves in for the long (and trickiest) haul. Checkerface didn't mention anything about psychic sushi chefs damnit!

O X O

 **So, yeah. Fun stuff coming up. Tsuna's collecting his Guardians. He has a split personality. More than one, mind you. *coughs pointedly* Why do you think I put certain bits/thoughts that were in parenthesis, in Italics?**

 **Ah, and the Acrobaleno said, 'My god.' I went to check with GT that I got the Italian right (my girlfriend says it and I've read it in a fanfiction), and there was a hilarious translation. *grins* Imagine one of the Acrobaleno saying, 'OMG!' XD**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	13. What He Protects - End of Part One

Tsuna was a Gintama skeptic at first, but as the chapters went by, Tsuna's tension got smaller and smaller until he was rolling on the bed, howling with laughter. Kawahira grinned down at him, a teasing twinkle in his eye, "Why, Tsu-chan, whatever is the matter with you? It's just a man popping out of the garbage can with JUMP in hand!"

'Tsu-chan' couldn't speak past the laughter. Every time he seemed to dwindle, gasping and panting, Tsuna need only to glance at Kawahira and Takashi's canary-satisfied smiles to start up again. Still grinning, Kawahira marked their page and put away the book, more interested in Tsuna's uncontrollable laughing fit. Out of the corner of one eye, Kawahira noticed Takashi's smile strain. His eyes, so bright and grey, never left the book's cover, even when Kawahira put it in Takashi's book-bag. Takashi stared intently at the bag, his hands twitching as if to get up and grab the book again.

Kawahira's smile pointed at one end into a smirk. "Sorry Taka-kun," he said sweetly, using one hand to muss Takashi's hair up and pointedly shift his head up, away from the book bag, "I don't think we'll be playing with Gin-kun anymore today." Takashi's smile dropped into a petulant frown, a tiny furrow appearing between two small eyebrows, and Kawahira was reminded how fragile (read; sensitive) this human was. So he smiled again, mussed up Takashi's hair some more, and added, "We have to let Sasagawa-sensei read some too," Kawahira teased when he heard said nurse hit his desk with a start, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Was it really that obvious?" Sasagawa-sensei asked, half-jovial, half-embarrassed. Kawahira's eyes twinkled, and he was about to answer, but Tsuna, upside-down and still grinning, beat him to the punch:

"Hai, hai!" Tsuna sang, still on a Gintama high, as he slowly slid down the side of the bed so Sasagawa-sensei could see his upside-down clown face.

Sasagawa-sensei snorted, his pen taking up residence in his hand as a baton, "Cheeky brat, aren't you?" he muttered, almost under his breath. But both boys heard him.

Tsuna's grin turned smug as Takashi snorted. "You haven't noticed?" Takashi smirked, amused by the situation and remembering the last time they were here (the teasing that Tsuna executed should be legendary). Tsuna giggled at Sasagawa-sensei, remembering the same thing. Sasagawa-sensei twitched but studiously did not comment.

Kawahira looked around the room at everyone's varying expressions (Takashi was amused, Tsuna was smug, and Sasagawa-sensei looked annoyed) before he said, "Would you tell me what happened if I asked?"

Sasagawa-sensei's dark and forbidding face was answer enough, and though he couldn't see him, Kawahira did hear Tsuna chirp ' _Nope~!'_ loud and clear. Kawahira raised an eyebrow amusedly and turned to Takashi, who just shrugged. "I can't really explain it," he said apologetically, "But Tsuna did some voodoo and got us kicked out."

Kawahira twitched, wondering why Takashi was in the junior high infirmary in the first place, but didn't comment. Instead, Kawahira turned to Tsuna, a growing smile on his lips. "'Voodoo', huh? Tsuna, is there something you haven't told me?" Kawahira asked menacingly, his fingers looming over Tsuna's vulnerable stomach, "Like, say, perhaps… that you're a magician?!"

Tsuna squealed when Kawahira's fingers leapt into action, tickling like there was no tomorrow and pulling laughs through Tsuna's already laugh-torn throat. "Stop, stop!" Tsuna squealed, trying not to laugh, and trying to get away from Kawahira's fingers. Kawahira smirked, but did not relent.

In an attempt to get away from those merciless fingers, Tsuna shifted a little to the left and lost his grip on the bedpost. With a short scream and a loud crunch, Tsuna fell off the bed and onto the hard stone floor. The floor froze in fear.

It was Takashi who reacted first.

Takashi ripped himself off the bed and slid across the floor in his rush, landing in a similar sprawl to Tsuna as he yelped, "Tsuna!" and it motivated everyone else to action. Kawahira put his hands in his sleeves, knowing not to get in the nurse's way (Sasagawa-sensei had jumped off his seat and was crouched on the floor, touching Tsuna gently), and tried not to feel guilty. He just slipped, is all, Kawahira reasoned with himself, and it wasn't Takashi that fell in the first place. But a memory of cold laughter and Takashi's present panic really drove it home to the bespectacled man; if he wanted to protect Takashi, he was going to need to step up his game. Even at the cost of friendship or Gintama.

As if reading his dark thoughts, Takashi looked up and over at Kawahira (who was still in a gloomy mood). The boy's face was slack with relief as he said, "Tsu-kun's fine. He just bite his tongue," he explained, drawing a groan from the person in question, a sigh from the addressed, and a smile from the speaker as his brother figure relaxed.

"Du mi a favour, don't cal mi Tsu-kun," Tsuna grumped, reaching up and using Takashi's shoulder to hoist himself up. Takashi grinned and assented, allowing Tsuna to use him for support and even actively helping his friend.

Up on the bed, Kawahira couldn't help but smile softly. Takashi was a good kid. A good human. And by god, may heaven help anyone who tried to tear this reality apart. Kawahira's brow grew a small dent, and his resolve strengthened.

O X O

Over the next week, not much changed in the world of Takashi and Tsuna. Tsuna's cold and fainting spells were (almost) forgotten in squealing tree-climbs and cackled-filled Gintama readings. Takashi noticed that Kawahira was around more often (if a little cooler than usual), and so pulled the (alien/) man into as many activities as possible. After the first twenty minutes, Kawahira always melted. He was always there, smiling in the background or in the foreground, keeping them safe from another tree-fall (Kawahira was aghast and actually sulked when he learned of both boys' visits to the infirmary).

But for those sensitive to a change in the world (not including a certain empath of course), the shift was hard not to notice. There were shapes that moved in the shadows, small beings that appeared at seemingly random times around specific people: Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, guardian of Yamamoto Takashi and owner of Takesushi; Yamamoto Takashi, Yamamoto-san's son and a kindergartener; Sawada Tsunayoshi, another kindergartener and friend of Yamamoto-chan; Sasagawa Ryohei, a nurse at Namimori Junior High and a friend of Hibari-kun; Hibari Kyouya, a third-year student at Namimori Junior High and rumored thug; and Kawahira, an unknown man with prematurely-white hair and a suspicious background.

Kawahira smiled when he heard the gossip going over Tsuna and Takashi's heads, and decided to keep it that way. He shepherded the kids away from the gate and towards the big tree in the backyard, still smiling. Mammon was doing well.

O X O

The small child sighed beyond their years. "Sheesh," they grumbled, floating after their guard, "This place gives me the creeps." Considering this child had no problem sticking a fire-poker through someone's exposed stomach in the name of affection, the Vindice prison must've been something else. There were black smears on the cold cement walls, and the few cells that were filled stank of human misery and dying flesh.

The purple baby wrinkled their nose. "Can't we go a little faster?" They complained, directing the question towards the guard that was slowly leading the way to the highest levels of security. No response. The baby huffed, not expecting one, and simply conjured a gas mask. It was loud and hard to breathe through (tiny lungs and all that), but it was at least clean. The mysterious child sighed noisily, silently mourning how much this bail bond was going to cost them.

Damn Kawahira and his understanding of blackmail.

O X O

 ***yawns* I did this early, so no, I'm not rushing this time. I was stressed though, 'cause this week is finals. I don't have any finals (well, not today), but staying in one place for over an hour? Killer. My butt is sore from sitting for so long. I'm sorry this chapter was not up to par. T^T Please put any questions, comments and/or concerns below.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	14. Part Two Begins - Verde

**Okay, so, I almost broke my neck, trying to get everything done this week. If we're going from the Sat. after the last chapter, this is what happened:**

 **Sat. - Work all day on research for scholarships and colleges, plus little stuff (small projects that could be done in an hour, tops). Was badgered by parents about FAFSA and about my college choices. Researched almost thirty colleges and almost fifty scholarships. I went to bed and slept like a babe.**

 **Sun. - I worked on a story I've been writing for the past two weeks until 1.30, when I cleaned up and got a call from my friend, M. He came over and we made chocolate. I put my hand on a below-freezing railing and lost a chunk of my hand. We finished making chocolate, even though I still have a pound of peanutbutter filling in my fridge. The rest of the club never showed up for the fundraiser, though K did show. We spent seven hours snuggling and cuddling and talking. We watched the Cat Returns (since K had never seen a Ghibli movie). Everyone left at ten-thirty, at which point I had to clean up. Again.**

 **Mon. - Since my friends enjoyed my company so much, they came over again the next day. They stayed for a moderate five hours. We went for a walk. We watched a movie. I was so done with entertaining people (I tried to work on my essay for history, and my mom called me out). I finished my IA for history (late at night).**

 **Tues. - Went on a college tour. Made lots of friends (read; entertained lots of people) and learned not a whole lot. Had three tacos from Mi Ama grocery 'cause we didn't/don't have any food. Worked on my IA. Went to bed.**

 **Wed. - Slept awful. Had an awful day at school with new classes. I like Mr G and Mr K, but I hate Mr S. Worked on my IA until it was time to go to church. Talked about color personalities for a couple hours. Went home and worked on my IA.**

 **Thurs. - Still crabby (no breaks!). Went to school, considered dropping Dramatic Lit (Mr S's class). Missed R. Went home. Worked on IA. Went to dance rehearsal. Didn't do anything productive.**

 **So excuse me if I didn't find a whole lot of time to work on this chapter. *hides head in hands* *groaning* And my friends want to get together** ** _again_** **ce soir! Mais non! Je ne peut pas aller! J'ai besoin de finir cette chapitre!**

 **So, fluff.**

O X O

 **Ring – Verde**

To be honest, Verde was no good at spy work. Oh, sure, he could whip up a nuclear bomb or a new Flame-based weapon in no time flat, but reconnaissance work? Not his area of expertise, or enjoyment. Verde would much rather leave the nitty gritties to Mammon while he worked on his latest experiment (preferably, the difference between Flames when it comes to propelling a bullet).

Thus, the dilemma.

At first, it seemed easy; program or bug something of the target's, and then sit back and relax. Any information or movement would be instantly recorded by Verde's army of computers (absently, Verde batted away a green-capped robot trying to get his attention, as the scientist dictated his day to a convenient stack of paper). Alas, but t'was not to be.

The target did not own a single electronical object to speak of. At first, Verde had merely thought himself mistaken, and sent his scanners back to work. But the second, and third, and fourth results were all telling Verde the same thing; Sasagawa Ryohei did not own anything, from a fridge or a heater, to a phone or a computer. It stumped Verde. So he paid a little money (not to Mammon of course), found out where Sasagawa was living, and, while the man was away, paid a little visit.

It was a ghastly affair.

The ceiling was chalk-white and peeling plaster; the walls stank of mildew and reminded Verde of that one particularly nasty mission with Reborn in the jungle that he preferred not to think about; the food was cooked over a lit barrel and stored in an iced cooler; and the washing machine was nowhere to be found. It was a horrible, horrible shock, especially the last one. Naturally, being the germaphobe that he is, Verde had to find out where (and how) the target was washing his clothes.

To his horror, Verde discovered that Sasagawa-sensei went to the nearest laundromat every Thursday and washed his clothes at fifty yen a load*. After writing down the name of the place (that laundromat would burn in hell for their shampoo choices, Verde decided darkly), Verde went online to Amazon and spent a couple hours hemming and hawing enough to give his robot army migraines. Finally, one of the green-capped ones hit a button and a Verde-standard electronics kit was on its way (Verde coughed politely, and told that robot that it was excused. The robot was not impressed).

The next day, a package arrived for one Sasagawa Ryohei. He looked confused, and rightly so, Verde belatedly realized, and sent off the instructions. The next day, another package arrived. To his astonished eyes (Verde took a chance and hid behind the barrel-stove), the scientist found his subject even more confused. Infuriated by the black mold and the lack of progress, Verde attempted to drug the teacher (so he could fix everything while the man was asleep), but it was an exercise in madness. The next morning, Sasagawa-sensei popped up, right as rain and excited for the next day (Verde's cursing that morning was enough to make one red-capped robot blush). So Verde double-doused the nurse and was immensely satisfied when he could break into the man's room later that night.

Nothing happened.

Maybe it was a little superstitious or edgy, but after all the extra-ordinary things that surrounded the target, it seemed offensively benign that Sasagawa would just sleep through the night. Verde frowned down at the man sleeping below his feet (his robot army was doing all the nitty gritties), and tried to distract himself. He found himself back on Amazon, buying one more thing (this time without all the mutter and clutter), before he turned in for the night. Verde hoped the present would make things a little livelier.

Verde needn't've bothered.

When Sasagawa-sensei woke up, he was shocked to be surrounded by living, breathing, _normal_ kitchen appliances, and promptly destroyed them all (only half of it was sleepy boxing). While he was horrified and mortified to see his plan fail so badly, Verde was also intrigued. He went online and signed Sasagawa-sensei up for boxing lessons. The man was confused when the letter came in the mail (Verde was smart enough to mark it as a random gift, no return address), but excited nonetheless, and attended the lessons with a maniac fervor that was frankly terrifying. Verde had to call the staff and let them know not to let Sasagawa-sensei practice after class for more than two hours, or he would stay all night (the staff wisely agreed and Sasagawa-sensei reappeared back at school, his previous pallor gone).

So that was pleasing, Verde admitted, but he was continuously frustrated by his attempts to bug his target. Even drugged two or three times more than healthy for his size, Sasagawa still had the ability to get up and attack dreamland creatures (half of them were metal boxes that Verde had to spend the days fixing, rather than his bullet-flame-type experiment, which made him all sorts of mad), making it impossible to physically tag the man or his clothes (which were in the same room).

Verde tried putting a GPS in Sasagawa's food so he could always find the man, but that was a game in which Verde always lost; the few times he did guess which food Sasagawa-sensei would eat, not feed to strays, Sasagawa's abnormally strong stomach digested the metal and spat it right back out. Not even a gold-plated, gum-wrapped bauble stuck, and it was driving Verde crazy, trying to keep track of his target.

It took a meet between the Acrobaleno for Verde to get his head in gear. They were all there to bitch and whine about the assignment Kawahira had given them (Mammon was surprisingly the most vocal of this), but since Verde had literally been working day and night to tag his target, he just put his head down on the desk and tried not to pull out a laser and explode the school building. The meeting passed as usual; Lal polished her sniper rifle while arguing about mushrooms with Mammon (Mammon couldn't believe they were anything other than evil while Lal was trying to explain nutrition to an otaku), Colonnello and Reborn were being assholes to each other, and poor Skull was everybody's punching bag. Verde sighed when the lad was kicked under the table and into his line of vision, too tired to kick the boy back. Skull took reassurance in this (that is to say, he took the moment to catch his breath), and while Skull was laying there, Verde noticed something.

Rings. Skull never went anywhere without his rings. So what if… ?

A few days later, Sasagawa-sensei showed up to school, grinning proudly and displaying his amber-colored, boxing-themed ring to Kyouya. Kyouya noticed and nodded that it was cool, but otherwise didn't give a damn. Far away and far below, Verde cackled. "Finally," he murmured, staring greedily at the lit screen which proudly displayed the target's location. Verde cackled a little more for effect, and then turned to one of his robots. "Wake me up if something happens," the scientist ordered, and then promptly when to sleep (the green-capped robot sighed and dutifully tucked its boss in).

Verde slept on, oblivious.

O X O

 ***I don't know if this is true, but that's how much it costs for me in the Mid-Midwest (fifty cents).**

 **I was thinking that I could do a short fluff thing for each character (each** ** _important_** **character), but then this got long. I really need to post right now, so I guess I'll just have a fluffy arc? That'd be cool, I guess…**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	15. Ryohei - Gokudera

**Sun – Ryohei**

Ryohei loved to rise with the sun. Ever since he could remember, he had always been a "morning person" and an "early bird," prone to rising at the slightest peak of sunlight and not able to sleep until the sun had fully set (the latest Ryohei had ever slept in was eleven, and the earliest he had ever fallen asleep was three; he had a fever and still had to put a blanket over his head to sleep). Some of Ryohei's most cherished memories are memories of watching the sun set or rise on a particularly beautiful or wonderful day. So when Sasagawa-sensei got up at the crack of dawn, he would watch the sun rise. And for many years, that's all that he did; watch the sun.

But when he turned thirteen and his grandma was really sick and his mom was stressed and she yelled at him for putting on weight, Ryohei went for a run. The sun rising on a new day, a new world of opportunity… the sound of feet pounding, his every effort pushing him farther and faster… and an intense clarity of thought, making everything seem possible and simple. It was bliss, and why Ryohei still ran today.

Ryohei had run through his grandmother's long death; through his mother's turbulent grief; through his parents' arguing and door-slamming; Ryohei had run through the separation, divorce, custody case, and ensuing eviction. By the time he had gained the custody of his then-teenaged younger sister, Kyoko knew not to take offense if nii-chan left/stormed out of the room; he would always return a few hours later, flushed but calm.

Running with the sun was an essential part of who Ryohei was. It helped his mood soar, made him excitable, and helped him get his head in the game. Not being able to run in the mornings would kill him.

O X O

 **Subtract – Gokudera**

The sound of chalk hitting the chalkboard was loud in the silent room. Tak, tak, went the chalk. It marched itself across the board, a no-nonsense entity that made itself perfectly clear without having to say anything. Gokudera envied his chalk. Tak, tak. He finished writing on the board and paused, checking over his diagram to make sure he hadn't misspelled anything. He'd done that a couple weeks ago to the laughter of his students.

Gokudera sighed and turned to face his little hellions. "Right," he said, discreetly fiddling with his chalk, "Find your group and sit next to them. You have thirty seconds." Gokudera closed his eyes against the plethora of sound. When he opened his eyes, everyone was seated in clumps around the room.

Gokudera-sensei surveyed the class. He nodded, "Okay, these are the groups you'll be studying with for the next few weeks, so get to know them." Gokudera ignored the excited or exaggerated whimpers that broke out, and gestured to the paper stacks on his desk. "When you're done," he continued, "Pick up your homework and start working on it. I've divided everyone by level of knowledge and fluency, but don't worry, these groups are flexible and don't apply to the homework. If you have a question, you can ask a group member or another, more knowledgeable group. If you want extra credit or a challenge, you can take a harder homework. You're free to do the easier homework, but know that you won't advance if you do. At the end of every month, I will issue a placement test for the whole class. If you've improved, you'll move up. If you've worsened, you'll go down. This class is structured so that everyone can work within their comfort zone, so if I notice any bullying, I will stop it. Understood?" Gokudera glared at his students, emphasizing this last point.

Reactions seemed mixed (half were murderous and half were thoughtful), but Gokudera counted that as a win. He was about to sit down and start working on something else when an over-eager hand streaked into the air. Gokudera-sensei paused and gestured for her to speak. The girl put her hand down and asked, "What about Hibari-san? Does he have a group?"

As one, the class looked to the back of the room, where the Hibari heir was sitting, aloof and alone. Gokudera's lips twitched, imagining a blush on those pale-pale cheeks. Gokudera coughed to hide his amusement, "Hibari-kun will be working with either me or a tutor, but feel free to ask him any questions you might have." Gokudera withheld a sigh as a wave of jealousy rippled across the room. Evidently, everyone thought that Hibari-kun was going to be getting special attention. Honestly, if these nincompoops spent as much time studying as they did worrying about other people, they wouldn't have anything to worry about. Gokudera-sensei sighed quietly; as if. People would be people. Grumpily, Gokudera considered making the final a do or die situation, where not passing meant not going to the next level. Gokudera entertained the idea, dreaming of peace and silence ever-lasting, before he dismissed it. They may be hellions, but this was the spring of their lifetimes. The cold winter to come would be punishment enough.

Gokudera grinned, "Okay, get to work," he called, and pulled up his chair to do just that. Out of the corner of one eye, Gokudera-sensei glanced at Hibari-kun. He hoped subtracting the boy from the classroom would ease the tension on all three parties.

O X O

 **Omake : Subtract – Gokudera**

Gokudera twitched. A tiny little hand waved a bauble in front of his face, but Gokudera couldn't hear a thing. He'd gone temporary deaf from the screaming. The bauble waved once, then twice, and then it disappeared. The kid holding it was down on the ground, wrestling for the toy with a boy the same age and size as he. Gokudera twitched again.

Someone else shoved a stick of chalk into his face (almost took his eye out too). Gokudera jerked backwards a little, quickly down quickly to see who this little hellhound was. The little girl smiled. She didn't have many teeth. "Subtwacsion reswon!" she cheered, waving the piece of chalk wildly (Gokudera had to duck to avoid flying slobber and a pointy chalk-end). Gokudera frowned heavily, but took the proffered chalk piece. Muttering darkly under his breath, he wondered how he got roped into teaching a bunch of five-year-olds addition and subtraction.

In the back of the room, Takashi put a strong hand on Tsuna's shoulder. "Tsuna," he said seriously (he still blushed whenever he said that; it was terribly rude, but Tsuna wouldn't accept anything less*), "Don't go near that teacher. He's hopping mad." Tsuna blinked owlishly at Takashi. He glanced at the teacher, and then back to Takashi.

"Why?" Tsuna asked (this led to the Great Why Game of 19XX).

O X O

 ***In Japan, it's rude/terribly familiar to call someone by their first name without any honorifics.**

 ***nods at omake* Much better. Hope you guys like fluff, because this what part is all about~! ^-^ I like the decreased stress.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	16. Kyouya (& a little Kusa-chan)

**Hug – Kyouya**

The first time that Hibari Kyouya met Kusakabe Tetsuya, he was in a bad place. Satoshi-otou-sama* was in a perpetually bad mood; he had taken up drinking again, and enjoyed inflicted as much pain as he could on his untamable, prodigious son. In the evenings, Kyouya would return from an exhausting day at school to find his father leering at him from the front porch, brown sake bottle in hand. "I'm surprised you made it home," Satoshi would hiccup, "No jealous rivals mug you in a back alley? Shucks," Satoshi would chortle wetly, "When I was your age, I already had a girl on one hand and the whole school against the other." Satoshi said a lot things, things Kyouya did not wish to repeat under polite circumstances, but things that stuck with him. They echoed in his head, stifled his breathing like gnats, and it sickened Kyouya. He wanted to be strong.

Soon after his father returned to drink, Kyouya started fighting. It gruesome, it was rough, it was bloody, and it was brilliant. No bars hold; winner takes all. Respect, something long-cherished and heedlessly desired, was there. It shone in the eyes of the people on the streets, the poor kids on the concrete corners and the muggers in the alleyways. Kyouya basked in it. He adored that glow.

His mother, however, did not. She was rarely home when Otou-sama opened a bottle anyway, but after Kyouya took up a metal bat and started hitting people with it, her visits went from every other afternoon, to one night a fortnight. The few times Kyouya saw her, it was like a burn on his skin or maybe his heart. Maybe that would explain the flinch from glare-blackened skin, or the sullen pit at the bottom of Kyouya's stomach, or the way his heart would flicker, flutter, and stop. The one time Kyouya heard his mother talk about him to another gossiper, she called him a 'a petulant child with the tendencies and maturity of a two-year-old.' Kyouya recoiled from her derision of his special form of self-love.

But when Kyouya walked onto the school grounds, he was leaving his family behind. The thick ripple of his uniform off his shoulders echoed through the air and then everyone knew he was there, everyone was looking at him, and while yes, there was fear, there was still respect, and friends who would wander over with shit-ass grins on their faces to welcome Kyouya home. It was hard, living a double life, but Kyouya was willing and able. He was happy _(somewhat_ ) _._

So naturally Satoshi had to take a steel mallet to Kyouya's dreams. Otou-sama ordered Kyouya to stay home and study ("You aren't getting anything out of that school anyway," Satoshi said dismissively, chopsticks half-raised at dinner. Across the table, Kyouya stared at him, unable to speak around his thick tongue), ordered armed guards onto the premises, and told the school that Kyouya had made the decision to leave (but Kyouya didn't know that. Not at first).

It was cage with steel bars, and Kyouya was determined to escape. He took to his new martial arts classes with fervor, questioned his tutors badly enough for them to leave, and kept a weather eye out. He would escape; skylarks are not meant to be held prisoner, Kyouya would tell himself late at night, when his heart felt like bruises china and the shadows almost hid the purple-redness on his face ( _Hands-on teaching_ , they would say).

And, one dark night a month later, Kyouya did manage to escape. He broke out the window in the tea room, hid from the guards in the shadows, and jumped the low stone wall at the back of the house. Hibari was free, and it was the best feeling ever. Racing down the street with his heart in his hands and his widest smile on, Kyouya could have taken on any problem, no sweat. He grinned at the darkness, making his way through the night to a friend's house. He could stay there for the night, and tomorrow, he would be back to school. Back home. Eagerly, Kyouya's feet picked up the pace. He was running towards the abyss.

There wasn't any light on at the first house Kyouya checked, but he didn't need a light to find the key. It was balanced on the edge of the fence, just out of sight, and fit neatly into the keyhole. Kyouya unlocked the door and crept in, his heart in his mouth, and hoped he would be well-received. It had been a month, after all. Maybe everyone had forgotten him? Kyouya worried and fussed discreetly to himself as he made his way up the time-worn stairs. He scurried up the stairs and over to his (best) friend's room, where there was a black lump lying in the darkened bed. Here, Kyouya paused. He was nervous, nervous about being left behind and about not belonging, but he was still running on his escape high… so he walked in.

The memory kicks Kyouya out of his stupor. His eyes, black as a raven's wing and now even darker, flint around the room. Kyouya looks for enemies, and sees none. This isn't the infirmary or the entrance gate; it's a classroom, and one without Gokudera-sensei neither. Kyouya is safe, he tells himself. But it doesn't matter; the hairs on the back of his neck still rise when he thinks about his first night out after a month in captivity. Yes, his friends had left him behind. No, they had not forgotten about him. They thought _he_ had left **them** , and it tore at Kyouya's heart even now to think that Satoshi-otou-sama had cost him some of the best friends he ever had.

I-… It pushed Kyouya away. Away from his life, from his reality, from his school, away from his back-stabbing parents and their unending complaints. It pushed Kyouya away, and down. Down into the dumps. He went down into a dark place, a place so dark that those who have escaped will always think of it, always wish for it, because as dark and cold and wet as it was, it was a blessing that the reality of little girls and boys will never feel the tender love of ( _or for..._ ). This dark place, dear reader, is not a place I hope you go to. It is a sticky place, with sticky fingers and sticky relations, where the only way out is to ask for someone to _see_ you… and smile (Dear reader, please, do smile.)

Kusakabe saw Kyouya. Kusakabe, Kusakabe Tetsuya, Kusa-chan, saw the sticky teen above him... and he _smiled_. It was something warm and sweet and happy to meet, and it reached down into Kyouya's chest to fondle the jagged pieces there. And Kusa-chan smiled. It was beautiful, breath-taking and heart-making. Even though he was only a baby at the time, Kyouya thinks that Kusa-chan must be the smartest person in the world ( _not to mention the kindest_ ).

So when Kusa-chan hugs Kyouya, he hugs back.

O X O

 ***Otou-sama is about as formal as one can get (for this honorific). The closest English translation would probably be 'Lord and Honorable Father.'**

 **R & R, please and thank you.**


	17. Tsuyoshi - Fong

**Snatch – Tsuyoshi**

"Tou-chan!" Takashi yelled, running with his hands in front of him, "I got it, I got it, I got-"

 _Fuumph._ Takashi crashed to a stop at the edge of the field, his baseball mitt empty, and a pout on his tiny lips. "Tou-chan, I told you I had it!" Takashi whined, petulant that victory had been snatched so out of his hands (or in this case, out of the air).

Tsuyoshi stifled a snort, a smile flickering across his face, as he bent down to Takashi's level. "Gomen'ne, Taka-chan," Tsuyoshi teased, ball in one hand as he reached for Takashi's hair with the other. "But what if you had dropped it?" Tsuyoshi grinned, moving Takashi's fluffy hair back and forth across his head. Takashi twitched like he wanted to argue, but the scalp massage was working against him.

"Toooou-saan," Takashi grumbled, "I wouldn't've dropped it! I'm a better player than you anyway!" Takashi flushed when Tsuyoshi snickered and started doing a really bad impression of a choking chicken (that is to say, he laughed really hard while trying not to). Tsuyoshi laughed and patted a red Takashi on the head.

"Well, it wouldn't really matter if this was a competition, would it?" A voice popped up, "I mean, you're on the same team."

Both Yamamoto* jumped and spun around, pointing their fingers theatrically and demanding, **"When did you get here?!"**

Gokudera-sensei's left eyebrow twitched. "I was here the whole time," he said slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a couple kids, "And I've won my team a homerun. Capiche?"

Takashi and Tsuyoshi's jaws dropped, **"When did you get to home base?!"** they demanded, still in unison.

Gokudera-sensei's eyebrow popped again. "While you two were having your mushy daddy-son moment," he grumped, and marched off the playing field. Takashi turned to stare at Tsuyoshi. Tsuyoshi stared back, wide-eyed. Takashi's eyes narrowed. "You forgot to send the ball back, didn't you?" he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Takashi's eyes continued to narrow as his father's lips and eyebrows starting melting down, his eyes looking elsewhere, and the treacherous ball still clasped between the fingers of the baseball glove. Takashi sighed through his nose, and was about to chide the gloomy Tsuyoshi when another small body slammed into him. "Ne," Tsuna chirped (right in Takashi's ear, too; ouch), "If you guys want to play, you should probably give the ball back." Tsuna smiled and extended his hand past his sputtering friend so that Tsuyoshi could sheepishly hand the ball back.

Tsuna turned his attention to his speechless friend, "Nan desu ka? Ne, Taka-chan?" Tsuna poked Takashi in the cheek, "Daijoubu ka?" /Hey, are you alright? What's going on?/

Takashi found his voice, though it squeaked when he said, "It wasn't me! Tou-chan forgot!"

Tsuna snickered quietly, "Your face is so red," he teased quietly, "You could actually be an UMA beacon right now~" Tsuna snickered at Takashi's rising color, but squeaked loudly when a big hand picked him up off of Takashi.

Tsuna started struggling wildly, yelping and yelling to be released, but Kawahira just frowned. He turned this formidable frown on all three of his team players, a competitive glint in his eyes. "You're supposed to be at the bases," he said seriously, "Why aren't you there?"

The Yamamoto had the decency to blush, but Tsuna just frowned and tried sinking his (tiny) nails into Kawahira's arm. "I can't get down until you let me go," Tsuna grumbled, "And until I get down, I can't get to first base!" Tsuna punctuated this with a kick. He missed. But Kawahira set him down anyway. Tsuna, as soon as his feet touched the ground, grabbed Takashi and took off for the bases.

The green-clad man sighed and turned boorish eyes on Tsuyoshi. The younger man laughed nervously, but it did nothing to deter Kawahira. "Yamamoto-san," he said seriously, "Please remember to throw me the ball when you've caught it. Otherwise it won't count."

Tsuyoshi laughed nervously, a pink blush rising in his cheeks and ears. "Um, yeah," he said, "I'll remember." Tsuyoshi smiled wide at Kawahira, hoping he couldn't see the sweat gathering on the back of his neck. Kawahira could, in fact, see that sweat, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, Kawahira muttered, "We're not going to lose this game," with fire on his glasses, just before he walked off to the pitcher's mound. Tsuyoshi laughed nervously, though less so than before, and followed.

Up on the mound, Kawahira surveyed everything with assessing eyes. When everyone was in position (including a bouncy Sasa-sensei at the batting box), Kawahira nodded decisively to himself, and drew back for a curveball. "Play ball!" he yelled, just as the ball flew through the air and landed with a crack on Sasagawa-sensei's bat. Watching the ball fly so high, Kawahira couldn't help but wonder if Tsuyoshi could catch that.

(He did, of course. The only ball he couldn't catch was Gokudera-sensei's, and that's because he played sensibly. Kawahira and co. were pretty impressed by the ending score: 11 to 3, and that was after going against powerhouses Ryohei and Kyouya).

O X O

 **Honorable – Fong**

Fong believed in the importance of honor. From a very young age, he could remember the temple monks murmuring together like migrating birds stopping for a nibble at the nearest cherry tree, murmuring quietly about honor and courage and wise men's tales. Fong would watch the clustered kitchen table with wide and curious eyes from the hallway his father send him to, his ears stretched as far as they would go, and forever hoping that he would hear something important. Fong supposed the younger him thought that, with a little extra knowledge, he could bridge the gap between young and old.

He never did hear anything, not at first, but then the head priest died and a new monk, one called Meiching, would come a-calling for alums and for tea. At first, Fong was confused. 'Meiching,' was a girl's name, but girls couldn't be monks. So why was there a girl monk sitting in the living room, have tea and cakes with his Ma and Pa**? It didn't make any sense, not to young Fong, and he supposed his confusion must've showed on his face, because when the monk Meiching saw him, the monk smiled and gestured Fong over.

His parents were shocked of course, but they made no protest when Fong scurried over and sat on one of the cushions Ma had put out for this occasion. Meiching smiled at Fong over his/her tea cup, and began to tell the story of Zodiac, and how the cat was tricked into losing his place amongst the stars. Meiching's voice rose and fell with the swells and bellows of the story, making it come alive and dance behind Fong's eyelids, so that by the time the story was finished, he was quite sedated. His parents were in a similar position. Meiching smiled at them all, thanked them for their gifts, and left.

The head priest was very busy, so Fong never saw the strange man/woman in his kitchen again, but the story stuck with him. Fong remembered the sad tilt to Meiching's head and the pain her/his voice when she/he recounted how the lonely and hurt the cat was by the betrayal of the rat, and as a child, it hurt him. It made his heart squeeze and his eyes burn, so much so that whenever Fong saw a cat, he made sure to be kind to it. Not that it happened very much; Fong seemed to have more of a monkey affinity than a cat one, sadly enough. But Fong cared for his pets and friends just the same, keeping the story of the cat in his mind day after day.

When his childhood came to a close and Fong began growing into a man, he found himself thinking about things deeply and for long periods of time. He thought about the cat often, about himself and his beliefs, and about the state of the world around him. Fong looked around him at the war-torn world and dog-toothed administration, and it made his heart ache. War was not honorable, Fong decided, and the rat was not honorable either. These things made Fong sad, and he resigned himself to the dishonor of this life.

When Fong came of age to be working, he found himself shipped off to a mountain village where they mined coal, and where no one ever had any time to think about life's big questions. It threw Fong for the loop, and he found himself overwhelmed by the long periods of time spent down in the coal mines, the air thick with debris and human stench. Fong developed a cough that just wouldn't go away.

The miners tried to help of course. They sent for the best doctors in the village, harvested herbs for their remedies, and tried to nurse him back to health. But Fong had no money for the doctor or the medicine, and no health of body or mind to be sent down to the coal mines again, where he could earn the money to be well. To tell the truth, the thought of what the coal mines stood for (human pain and wretchedness and evil) made quite an impression on young Fong, and it got to the point where he would start coughing horribly at the mere thought of going to work. Unable to help him, the coal miners sent Fong away.

Fong ended up at the nearby temple, training to be a monk in order to bring back the honor he had lost, back to his family. He was ashamed, Fong was, that he could not work even a month as a man before he was forced to quit. Humbled and head bowed, Fong took to his religious training like a fish to water. The poetry and riddles inside each and every verse and story were ripe for picking, and Fong was a farmer looking at his largest cash crop yet. In no time at all, Fong had risen from chore-boy to novice, to trainee. His rapid progress amazed and impressed his parents, and soon enough, word trickled back to the head monk that there was a little boy there, perhaps fourteen years of age, who followed Buddha's words so intensely that he might as well as written them himself (it was an exaggeration, of course, considering Fong's talent for questioning beliefs). The head monk, intrigued, made his rounds, and was shocked to discover the boy he had told the Zodiac story, as a man.

Their reunion was sweet and full of pride, which delved into discussion and laughter. Meiching, for that is who he was, was pleased to find Fong thinking deeply about Buddha's words, and Fong was proud to have been praised. They spent the afternoon tea talking and discussing Buddhism and the state of the world, and a few days later Fong became Meiching's personal apprentice. It was a luxurious position, admired by and enchanting many, but it was also, as Fong quickly found out, a lot of hard work. Meiching would ask questions that got to the heart of the matter (whether it was how a pepper was best cooked, how Buddha remained so calm, or about the Triads nearby***), tell Fong that he expected an answer by dinner, and then assign a long list of chores that kept Fong busy all day long. If, at the end of the day, Fong did not have an answer to Meiching's question, he would be sent to watch over the temple wards for the ensuing week (a task/punishment Meiching knew Fong hated).

Fong learned quickly to think on his feet, and found that he had the best of two worlds; the thoughts and faith of a dutiful monk, and the prestige and muscles of a hard-working laborer. In addition to making his parents proud, Fong was developing and solidifying his stances on a number of things, from kitchenware to politics to honor. Honor was very important to Meiching and to Fong, so much so that they never even considered the possibility of a betrayal.

A year later, and the temple was burned to the ground by an insider agent, killing Meiching and massacring the people nearby, from villagers to monks to choreboys and everyone in between. With a target on his head and no supplies, Fong fled. He went deep into the mountain woods, where no one could follow, and there he learned to fight. There was no Buddha or mysterious monks to help Fong then; only his mind and what his hands could make kept him eating and not the eaten. When Fong came out of the experience, he was a changed man. He joined the Triads, and it all went downhill from there.

Now, with a miniature body and a curse hanging over his head, Fong was forced to reconsider his beliefs. 'Kill or be killed,' that had been his motto, once upon a time. 'Honor to us all'… that had been another, once, even further back in memory. Fong needed to think, and to think deeply. He took another mountain trip, and spent it perched on grey stones, looking down on burned houses and thinking about where he was going to go in life. A changed body was a changed perspective, after all.

In the end, Fong returned to his needy honor, and the cat that was betrayed by the rat. Now, Fong was determined not to be the rat. He would be better than that, he promised himself.

Which where we find ourselves now; with Fong hiding himself in a nearby tree, and his two targets (well, one of them was a target, and the other one was his younger brother(?)) were about to walk into a bath house. Morally, Fong was having really hard time letting these two people go in.

Why were they going into the boys' section?! They both _clearly_ girls! Fong blushed delicately; no, he hadn't peaked in on them in the bath or in the toilet, but it was obvious that they were female! Since coming to this country, Fong had studied very hard to learn Japanese (so that he could fulfill the mission at his expected standard), and the pronouns and honorifics they were using clearly identified them as girls!

SO WHY WERE THEY GOING INTO THE BOYS' SECTION?

Fong had no idea why, and honestly, he didn't want to find out. His job was to keep these people safe, and that means, no molesting, which means, NO GOING IN THE BOYS' SECTION OF THE BATHHOUSE. But how could he stop them? Fong's Flames were good for dissolving stuff, yes, especially pesky eye-crud in the mornings, but it wasn't very good at disguises… which is exactly what Fong needed right now. In the trees, Fong drooped sadly, disappointed that he had not learned the fine art of disguising himself just yet. Well, not for this body. Fong made a mental note to learn that later.

But! For now! What should Fong do?! He can't disguise himself, talk to them, give himself away- oh! Fong grinned. No, he didn't have to give himself away. He could just… follow them. And make sure that they wore towels (Fong could be very quick and very discreet – please ignore that rosy blush). And attack any molesters. Fong grinned, and got up from his tree branch, all psyched up to go into the boys' section of the bathhouse.

 _THUNK (quiver quiver)._

Slowly, ever so slowly, Fong turned his head to look at the tonfa that was embedded into the branch by his head. Fong swallowed dryly and, his heart beating loudly, took the note off of the projectile that nearly took his head off (Fong discreetly swallowed again. He could feel his dry tongue in the back of his throat, trying to choke him). The note said;

 _Don't come into the bath. If you touch Kusa-chan, you're dead._

Fong didn't go into the bath. He had too much honor for that.

O X O

 ***In Japanese, there is no plural or singular version of a word. It's the same word. So, the word 'Yamamotos' just bothers the heck out of me. So I took it out.**

 ****I don't know the actual words for Ma and Pa in Chinese, but I thought it would be hilarious if Fong called his parents that. So, yeah. Ma and Pa. They're dead now, btw.**

 *****The Chinese Triads are the mafia, but Chinese. It's really f**ked up.**

 **Okay, so, I've never actually gotten past the first five episodes of the KHR anime. Please bear with me, there are always going to be inconsistencies. *hides under book* Please don't hurt me!**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	18. Lal - Mukuro

**Bomb – Lal**

Lal was, quite possibly, the prettiest bombshell in existence.

How did she know this, you ask? Well, Lal was working hard with her Flames to see past the metal, but she could sense the passerby stopping to stare at her pretty reflection (sometimes more than once), and there was one particular (grizzly old) man who muttered that seeing a bomb on the sidewalk just about made his day, so Lal felt confident enough in her observations to say that she was the prettiest bombshell in existence.

Lal had a lot of pride in her weaponry.

 _BAUNK._ Lal Mirch groaned and rubbed her forehead softly against the cool metal of her metal bunker, pushing Lal ( _Red*, if you please, dear_ ) away. There was a mission to be done, and like hell Lal was going to be discovered because of some crazy phantom ex-hairdresser. Lal breathed in deeply (then wished she hadn't; the bomb that she was using as a hideout didn't have a lavatory), sighed, and used Red's ( _thank you sweetheart~_ ) Flames to peak out outside.

It was still raining.

Lal sighed and curled up on her side, her gun tucked safely under her coat, and wished she had a cup of cocoa to go with the dreary view ( _I could whip that right up, if you let me out,_ Red suggested, but Lal was determined not to let the spirit out of her subconscious). She also wished she had the good sense not to accept Kawahira's mission. Sure, it was nice not to be killing anybody (that honor went to Mammon, who was maintaining their** relations with the Underworld, and who was keeping the prisoner safe), but it was also nice to be next to a warm hearth at the end of the day, knowing that it was a day and job well-fulfilled, and Lal could rest easy for the night.

Here, Lal couldn't sleep. The air never moved, the people moved either too fast or not at all, and the food was all bland. The few times Lal used Red's Flames to force her way out of the bomb, she found that rice was a staple here, and while the fish was good, it was nowhere near as good nor as spicy as back home. More than once, Lal had caught herself wishing for a cup of hot cocoa, or for a good old-fashioned, fire-in-your-throat chili batch (one of her favorites).

Lal sighed and bonked her head (softly this time) against the bomb's wall. She tried not to think about these things, since they made her sad and low and dreary, and then Red would use this moment of weakness to take over, causing mass chaos and leaving Lal (and Reborn) a big mess to clean up at the end of day. So Lal pushed herself up the side of the bomb, and, using Red's Flames, checked up on her target.

That was half of the problem; her target never moved. He just sat there, either staring out the window at dreary gray clouds (Lal could understand that), sighing (Lal could relate), and reading about kimono-wearing aliens while giggling loudly and at painful pitches (Lal could not and would not understand this. Just, no. There were some things that should not be explained. Like Santa Claus). How in God's name the kid hadn't noticed Lal's bomb, sitting on the ledge by the gate (a mere foot from where the boy's eyes went wandering), was also beyond Lal. But she was loath to move (movement attracted attention, and attention was the last thing Lal wanted right now), so Lal ended up sitting in her bomb, pinning for something spicy or sweet ( _or better yet, both,_ Red suggest, making their mouth water), and unable to use a real lavatory. Yeah. It was pretty rough.

Lal was jerked out of her ( _commiserating_ ) thoughts when a pink apron covered her spy hole. "Aa?" a pleasant, if a high-pitched, voice asked, "Kore wa nan desu ka?" /What is this?/

That's another thing, Lal grumbled; she had to learn a whole new language. In two weeks. Lal had no f**king clue how she managed it, but she got into the country, legally… she just couldn't remember any of the words she learned (right now). Significant to say, neither Red (who didn't give a damn) or Lal (who just plain didn't remember) understood Sawada Nana when she asked the bomb what in God's name it was. Having received no answer, which, to many, is a sign of consent, Nana smiled cheerfully, picked up the bomb, and took it inside to knit it a Flame-proof scarf. While she was knitting, Nana kept a careful ear out for any sounds that the bomb might make, and, hearing none, went right on with her work.

Lal severely regretted her decision to remain quiet when she found herself unable to get out and use the (very nearby) lavatory, due to the pink abomination Nana had knitted for her bomb-child.

(Upstairs, Tsuna was contemplating how much Kaa-san needed glasses, and how they could afford such. In the kitchen, Nana sneezed, loudly.)

O X O

 **Two – Mukuro**

 _Crinkle, crinkle._ The paper moved suddenly, startling Mukuro (though he didn't show it), as the reader turned to a new page.

Silence.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Mukuro continued what he had been doing beforehand; creeping past the guard. The newspaper crinkled again, but this time, a voice accompanied it: "Going out?" the baby behind the newspaper asked, his voice surprisingly nonchalant.

Mukuro scowled, his daring increased by anonymity. "So?" he asked, not quite able to hide the bite or the rawness of his voice. The torture he had sustained in prison had left their scars; some were simply more visible (or audible) than others.

Mammon smirked, and turning the page again. Mukuro was too out of it to notice the illusion that crested over him, knocking him out and hopefully keeping him in bed longer. Mammon swished the paper one more time, this time as he put it down, and floated gently over to his red-faced (and sweaty) patient.

Mammon clucked his tongue. "Honestly," he said, pulling Mukuro up by the arms and getting ready to drag the unconscious body back to bed, "If you opened your eyes a little bit, you might see that we're two of a kind."

Mukuro, oblivious, slept on.

O X O

 ***Lal means Red. It's also an very (culturally) feminine color (thanks to ppl like Marilyn Monroe).**

 ****I have decided that Mammon is gender-fluid. Basically, however he/she/they feels about being called in terms of pronouns on the day(s) I'm writing, will be their gender for the day. Capiche?**

 **So. I gave Lal a voice inside her head. And she's been thwarted by Nana. Yep. And Tsuna is being his anti-social self. Yep. I should probably be more bothered by how I'm portraying the characters, and by how little I'm actually saying here, but I have four hours of homework lined up, and I'm not really in the mood to be jovial. Yep. Nope.**

 **Read and review, please and thank you.**


	19. Kawahira - Gokudera - Reborn

**Destruction – Kawahira**

The sheer amount of destruction wrought by two masters of illusions was absolutely devastating. The grass along the path that climbed a hill past a village and onto private property, was scorched, black and red. Here and there, some embers tried futilely to light a fire, while some small critters dashed and ducked away from the intruder. Absently, Kawahira stepped over a puddle of sooty… _something_ , his eyes on the prize.

The safe house was ruined.

Compared to the house, the blackened grasses and scattered animals were like Japanese-Americans halfway through the evacuation, and the house was a former Holocaust camp. The walls, once so pristine and near-gaudy in their decoration, were nothing but smoking ash. The dirty black smoke drifted by chopped and charred furniture, rising silently past the crumbled remains of what had once been a roof. Kawahira resented the flames that had taken away the pictures he and Sepira, his best friend, had painted during the long and lonely days.

Breathing deeply and sighing long, Kawahira moved quietly through the remains of his house. He tried not to look any farther than his feet; it was bad enough to see the skeleton of a great love, but it was worse still to see the bits and pieces of what had once been a beautiful life. Kawahira's eyes flickered over the sooty ballroom floor. He wished he hadn't come. Better yet, he wished that he had never invited those two humans into his home.

From the depths of apathy came the beginnings of anger.

Kawahira looked up. With narrowing eyes he looked past the blackened support beams of the back porch, and noticed that they were still fighting. Kawahira felt sick to his stomach. Is this what all humans did? He wondered. They seemed adept at ruining the bestest of times and things, Kawahira knew, and it did not sit well with him. Seeing Sepira's house in flames was like a blow to a gut followed by a murder of crows attacking him. It wasn't agony, but it was painful. Like carrying a great weight after a long time resting.

Kawahira wasn't aware he had stopped moving until he took the next step.

 _Scritch, sruch_. Kawahira's feet scratched quietly along the dirty floor, but neither illusionary master noticed. They were too busy glaring each other to death, a ripple of reality vibrating between the two of them so hard, Kawahira worried that it might snap and unleash another legion of unholy terrors on his house. Reaching out with his Flames, Kawahira steadied the space-time warp, watching as the tremors wilted and died, but kept his Flames present. He turned towards his former house guests, ready to knock them out of their stupor.

 _SMACK_. (Kawahira enacted his _Fists of Fury_ skill.)

 _BONK._ (Mukuro and Mammon's heads hit the ground.) They lay there, groaning, Flame-drained and bone-tired, but Kawahira would not go easy on them. Wake the bear, and fear its claws, as his mother used to say. Fear thy wrath, as someone else said. Kawahira didn't know who, but it made its point.

Kawahira smiled.

It was not a nice smile. "Now then," he said placidly, "What have you done to my house?" The two illusionary masters looked up at the black cloud of doom. Their hearts picked up. Their fingers twitched for a weapon, but their hearts knew it to be useless. There was only one option left;

 **"** **He started it!"** They both yelled, yelping as they tried to get away, but too tired to get more than a foot without flailing dramatically. They struggled anyway, yelping all the while as they burned themselves on leftover cinders and scattered field mice.

Behind them, Kawahira smiled coldly, pale purple Flames dancing on his glasses. "Oh ho?" he asked, his tone light, but the atmosphere anything but. The two illusionary masters would then learn pain, pain of the greatest portions ( _but it wouldn't touch the pain of losing that house_ ).

(Back in Namimori, Takashi was pouting about being left behind again, and Tsuyoshi was trying to get him to go over to Tsuna's so the two of them could makeup. "Don't wanna," Takashi grumbled, and Tsuyoshi just sighed. Truth be told, he could use a Kawahira too right now…)

(Kawahira promptly took over Mukuro's guard duty, cutting into his time in Namimori and earning him pouting faces from both Yamamoto. In private, Kawahira cried over his tea and asked random strangers what he had done wrong to deserve this. These customers patted the owner's arm in condolence, and quickly left the shop, wares forgotten. Kawahira cried all the harder for it.)

O X O

 **Cowardly – Gokudera**

Mammon sighed and flipped absently through the video cameras he had on his (new) target. _Click, click, click._ With each tap, a new image would appear on the screen, tiny black eyes would search through the tinier people milling about, and then, dissatisfied, Mammon would click onto the next camera. _Click, click._ It was a school day, so Mammon had expected to see the sensei either in the teacher's longue, getting ready for the day (perhaps chatting up a pretty co-worker), or at home, either slumbering away in bed (the teacher was rather old, it was possible he was so hard-of-hearing that he slept in _par accidente_ ) or in the kitchen, eating.

His target was in neither of these places.

A little perturbed (mostly annoyed; Mammon failing at predictions (read; _anything_ ) made him want to find the nearest cat and set it on fire) but still feeling positive, Mammon clicked his way through the nearby convenience shops, restaurants, stalls, and stations. The target was not there. Mammon checked the nearby (and not-so nearby) bus stops, train stations, hospitals, and hospital gift shops, trying and failing to hold his temper in check the longer that the target was missing.

Finally, ten minutes to the first bell, Mammon stood up, swearing under his breath, and stalked off to find his target. At the door, he created a dozen snakes and half as many eagles, and ordered them off to find the teacher. The snakes scattered quickly and the eagles took off at high speeds, all of them eager to get away from the ticking time bomb that is an angry illusionary master. Mammon grumbled a bit as he warped the space around him (feeling the air compress and squeeze in this strange new way always made his stomach turn because _he had no control_ ), but soon marched off, ready to find his target the old-fashioned way.

…

Mammon sighed and turned on her heel, a hand rising to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Mammon sighed again, and, leaning back into a nearby wall, had to concede defeat. It hurt, especially when Mammon had just failed a mission (Kawahira's punishment had been particularly nasty; go a day without using Flames for _anything_ , up to and not excluding, making a common cup of coffee. Mammon almost f**king died) and his pride smat at the thought of not being able to catch one doddering, dithering old geezer. But Mammon knew when to concede defeat, and after twelve hours of frantic (and not-so frantic) searching (guess which came first), Mammon was willing to give it up.

She sighed once more, and bonked her head softly against the wall she was leaning on. It cool and solid, standing sturdy even as Mammon slumped her entire weight onto this inanimate being, thanking the gods above and below that humans had invented cement (and then had time to perfect it). Mammon smirked and closed her eyes in pleasure, determined to simply _be._ She'd spent twelve hours searching for someone who, besides Kawahira's ultimatum, Mammon didn't really care for. Sweet Jesus, it was good… just to lay… here…

Mammon was almost asleep standing up, when the murder of crows set up him.

 **(A/N: Okay, it wasn't a** ** _murder_** **, so much as one crow, and it didn't even attack; it just woke Mammon up. He's just a sore loser.**

 **Mammon: You want me to hurt you?**

 **A/N: No, you're fine, please, don't hurt me. *sits very still***

 **Mammon: *snorts* *goes back to the story*)**

 _Petsich._ A purple beam, a literal Death GlareTM, came out of Mammon's eyes and hit the crow. The crow squeaked, no longer able to squawk, and under Mammon's ferocious glare, quickly began to hobble and wobble and hop through a gate set neatly into the wall Mammon was leaning on. Huh, Mammon thought, I didn't notice that.

Curiosity peaked (but sympathy not), Mammon followed the half-melted bird through the iron-garbled gate, and, as the bird leapt wildly from claw to claw, stared at the rows upon rows of…

Gravestones.

It was totally silent. Most gravestones were pale and opaque; blocks of smooth stone occasionally interrupted by older, larger tombstones, or the wooden* spikes of eras long past. Mammon stopped on the edge of the field (the graveyard, he corrected himself), and simply stared. There must have been thousands… Hundreds of thousands of dead souls and dirty bodies lingering about, all waiting for a Judgement Day, a God that would never come, and in the pits of his stomach, Mammon recoiled. His upper lip coiled; he hated God. She had done nothing but be a bitch to him.

Mood ruined, Mammon stalked forward to the black crow (who had scrambled forward a couple feet in Mammon's musings) and raised a black polished boot to start kicking the creature to death. The heel came down, the bird sensed the danger, squawked like a scream, and then a miracle happened; the bird spread its wings… and flew. It flew right up into Mammon's face, scaring him so badly he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the bird was gone. All that remained were the silent tombstones. They were still waiting. Still watching.

"Tch," Mammon hissed, turning on his heel and making his way towards the gate. It wasn't very far, and Mammon probably could've gotten out of that twice-damned graveyard in a handful of seconds, but something he saw stopped him.

Packed right up against the cement wall Mammon had so appreciated beforehand, was an older grave. Well, it was built in an older style (and kind of gaudy, to be honest), even if the material looked fairly new, but the grave itself didn't matter, it was the person next to it did;

It was the old man.

In the man's grizzled and wrinkly hands, there was a beautiful bouquet of purple and white chrysanthemums, a couple daisies, a handful of different green grasses, and a lonely sunflower ( _A hopeful bouquet,_ Mammon noted). The old man himself was dressed in a pressed black suit with brass buttons, and though his shoulders spoke of age-old tiredness, there was a smile on his wrinkled face. It was half-formed, half of it slipping off into grief and guilt, but still the man held it in place. His hands, though they must have been aching from the heavy bouquet, never moved. His lips, though they must've wanted to form words, were frozen in a smile.

It was still silent.

Mammon snorted rudely and marched off. "Coward," he hissed viciously, vowing never to step foot in that cemetery again. Better yet, he could rope Reborn into this f**king mess. Mammon shuddered violently, hurrying along and away from the wall that had once seemed so benign. But try as he might, the images in his mind would not go away. Mammon sighed, and kept moving one foot one in front of the other (it was all he could do).

(The shoulders of those who have killed and lost lives and loves and hope are always the hardest to watch. Mammon knows this well. Too well.)

(Gokudera buries the memories of other people's backs behind frozen smiles and bouquets at a famiglia graves. He doesn't want to remember. It's why he can't stand the sight of the color pink.)

O X O

 **Face – Reborn**

After all of Mammon's dramatic build-up, Reborn was a little disappointed by the little Hibari's exhausted visage. Reborn frowned, considering the boy in front of him. The boy did the same back.

The silence lingered.

…

…

… _stare…_

 _…_ _sTaRe…_

 _…_ _STARE…_

 _…_ _Zzzz…_

Takashi sweateddropped. "Idiots," he mumbled, not protesting as Tsuna pulled him past the open-doored classroom towards the junior high infirmary. Honestly, the people here were _weird_ (Takashi wasn't certain if he should include himself in that equation. Tsuna and Sasa-sensei definitely counted though).

(Kyouya's second Italian tutoring session went much better than the first.)

O X O

 ***In Ancient Japan, gravesites were marked with wooden pikes or sticks that were carved with the names of the fallen, and then stabbed into the ground. Yeah. These guys are featured in a lot of anime...**

 **So… Three… for the price of one. This is my way of apologizing to my readers that I wasn't here to post (Yume-hime's doing that for me – thank you dear!)**

 ** _No problem darling~ Hello to all of LaMori's readers! Thank you for supporting her *bows* Reviews make her happy, and she's happy I'm happy ^-^ So please drop one for her, if you wouldn't mind? It was nice to meet you :D_**

 ** _Also, does anyone else adore LaMori's writing style? It's a bit disjointed, but very cool~ It's fun to read ;P Shameless girlfriend-promotion!_**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	20. Colonnello

**Wire (#1) – Colonnello**

A steel wire was an assassin's best friend. You could twist it, you could pull it, hell, you could yank on it, and it wouldn't break. Not easily.

Which made it very handy for makeshift bindings, traps, trip wires, and even the occasional garroting (Colonnello tried to avoid those – they were ever so messy, not to mention not in taste), all of which every assassin needed. It was an essential tool, and even before he became a hired killer for the mafia, Colonnello always kept a coil in his pack. Afterwards (after the mess with the Tri-Ni-Set and everything that followed), the amount of coil doubled.

However, never did Colonnello think that he would be using his (wonderful, admirable, essential) steel wire like this:

He had been sitting on the roof of his target's house, put up in a tent made with (surprise, surprise) his steel wire, lamenting the state of his life (the days where Colonnello didn't watch little kids get ready for bed like a creepy stalker were long gone, much to his dismay) over a bowl of spicy chili and a mug of hot cocoa, and was just about to take another sip _when suddenly the roof caved in_.

"Koooorrraaaa!" Colonnello yelped, jumping up and away from his (hot) food, and trying to get away but then suddenly he couldn't breathe, _the walls were coming in_ , and Colonnello got hot cocoa spilled down his pants. He yelped again, grabbing and scrambling for something to help him get out, and all the while Colonnello's chili was getting farther and farther down his pants. Colonnello groaned and squirmed, trying to reach one of the hidden knives on his person, but the tent was clasped fast and, Colonnello realized with a surge of vertigo, _moving_. Colonnello belched a little (excess cocoa talking) and continued to squirm, up and down, until he noticed a slight opening in the tent tarp. Eagerly, desperately, Colonnello squirmed to the opening, trying (and failing) to ignore the sickening _glump-glunk-slop_ feeling in his pants, as the chunks of tomato and chick pea gradually worked themselves to mush between pressures. Colonnello grimaced, but kept on.

He was almost within reach of the opening, close enough to almost smell the fresh air, when suddenly the tent _moved_ and Colonnello was _flying_ , and he was so very glad he still had another coil on him, because otherwise he would've crashed into the opposite wall and probably cracked his head open. Which he couldn't die from, but still, it was the pain that counted.

Groaning slightly as he pulled himself up into a solitary corner, absently creating a net to stand on and ignoring the nasty mess in his pants, Colonnello turned and squinted down at the smiling face of his… opposition.

He didn't look like much, that's for sure.

Colonnello didn't come down from the ceiling, but he did relax his guard (a little). With the opposition being a man dressed in a sushi-chef garb, hair defying gravity at hilarious levels, and with a languid smile on his face… well, Colonnello can be excused for making assumptions based on appearances. He doesn't know better. He is, after all, new to this business. (But please, dear reader, do not be so foolish. Books are not their covers, as so many people say.)

Still up in the ceiling corner, Colonnello looked down on Tsuyoshi with light eyes and the beginnings of a smirk. "Hey, ojii-san," Colonnello began, fully intending to tease the man about his gar-

 _THUNK._ Colonnello stared in silence at the thin wires keeping him above the ground. There was a tear in one of them. And it was getting bigger the longer Colonnello-

 _Fiiisshh- dunk._ A green body dropped down the ground, the gun on his back locked and loaded, and the cement was now... strangely, red. And Colonnello's pants were a lot lighter than earlier. Or rather, his bum was a lot colder than before-

 _Shiitch-cling_. "Hey, ossan," Colonnello grinned, ignoring (once again) the mess in his pants, "You pull out that blade, you're liable to get hurt." Colonnello put a little extra force in his gun as emphasis, wary of the blade before him, and mentally revising his opinion of the man before him.

Tsuyoshi smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I know," he said simply, and then he was gone.

 _Chiing._ Heartrate rising, Colonnello smirked over his shoulder at his adversary. "What?" the blond teased, "You expect me to be a sitting duck?"

Tsuyoshi smiled. It contrasted darkly against the dark blue background, tongues of which Colonnello was discreetly trying to move away from (do _you_ want to be slowly put to death by Flames that make you so calm you can't fight back?). "No," Tsuyoshi said, disappearing again, "You're much too smart for that."

Colonnello was forced to duck under blue streaks that whistled as they blew through the air and walls, a smirk on his face as he jumped over the next set. "Why thank you," he said regally, "I tr-"

 _Sh-fiiisssh._ Forceful trembles broke down both men's arms, locked in a war against each other that must end. Tsuyoshi smiled over Colonnello's smirk, pushing more force and more Flames into his attack. "But you're not smart enough," he chastened, his tone decidedly cold, "If you think you can spy on my son and get away with it." Just before Tsuyoshi disappeared into the howling wind, Colonnello caught sight of two glowing, furious eyes, and he shuddered so bad then that he almost tripped over the next set of air strikes.

The duel continued on for a while longer, no longer with pauses for talk, and Colonnello was hard-pressed to win against the furious and deadly swordmaster. It didn't help that any of Colonnello's _actual_ attacks would blow up the building, which was counterintuitive to his mission, while Tsuyoshi could blow out attack after attack and never make a sound. It was frustrating. It was spooky.

And once Tsuyoshi had Colonnello cornered, it was fatal.

Colonnello stared down his adversary, his guns still loaded, debating the possibilities of escape and causalities as Tsuyoshi narrowed his eyes at him, his smile long since dropped, and steel blade poised to strike. It was perfectly silent. Not even the wind, so eventful earlier, moved.

Naturally, this is exactly when Kawahira decided to show up.

The duelist jerked as, "Bravo! Bravo," Kawahira called, filling the room with his harsh clapping and clacking as he made his way across the cement floor, a cheshire grin stretched broadly across his face (so contrary to Tsuyoshi's now), and ignoring the half-jolt, half-twist Tsuyoshi had committed upon his entrance, as if the man had needed to swiftly and abruptly end his urge to kill the glasses-eyed man. Kawahira smiled wide, as if for an imaginary camera, and sauntered over, his words now lost to silence again.

Colonnello felt the extreme need to either retch or scramble away from this chili-scented basement, because the sight of Kawahira's garb was making his eyes **_burn_**. Kawahira's smile only got wider, as if he knew what Colonnello was thinking, and was posing for the camera. Which he got; Colonnello didn't know if it was possible for Tsuyoshi, but Colonnello couldn't tear his eyes off of Kawahira's garb – it was worse than the sushi chef's! At least that had some rhyme and reason to it, but Kawaira's funk just looked like something the cat dragged in!

Kawahira preened some more, this time for Tsuyoshi, as he twirled in a circle with his odiously purple, catfish-seashell styled handbag raised high over his garishly oversized and obstinately orange and yellow summer kimono with brown cat faces and a couple squiggly, cartoonish eels dancing about, seeming at random. Kawahira grinned as he completed his twirl, tapping his bright pink and puffball-covered geta to the floor, and bringing attention to his (admittedly quite nice, except for the gold and purple glitter stripes along the bangs) hairstyle. If Colonnello was feeling physically ill at the sight, he couldn't image how Tsuyoshi, the Japan native, must be feeling.

Kawahira, oblivious, beamed at the frozen Tsuyoshi. "Come on," he sing-songed, "It's the summer festival tonight! We need to get you dressed up!" So saying, Kawahira took Tsuyoshi by the hand and physically dragged the traumatized-looking man from the room. The door slammed. Colonnello relaxed (well, as much as he was able, with a few green beans between his balls).

Colonnello pitied the man, he really did… but that hot cocoa… and the chili…

Colonnello quickly left the basement, in dire need of a shower _and_ a new coil of steel wire. Tsuyoshi had cut his to pieces (sadly). And there was barely anyone selling those anymore!

(Somewhere nearby, a redhead sneezed, violently. His blond partner turned to him, a worried tilt to his lollipop. "You okay?" he asked. The redhead just nodded, his eyes fixed intently on the Flame-proof steel wire he was working on. Steel wire was, of course, very versatile…)

O X O

 **I just want to make it very clear that I have no plans to put Spanner or Shouichi in this. None. The characters do as they like. If they decide to add those too, cool, I'll roll with it, but until then, please don't expect any fluff of them.**

 **Speaking of fluff, the arc's almost over! I won't say exactly when, but it should be finished... soon. I'm coming up on a big break too, so I'll have a good chunk of time to weather the storms that may brew. *prays for good omens* So, yeah.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	21. Takashi - Skull - End of Part Two

**Wire (#2) – Takashi**

The next day, Takashi woke up to find the sun in his eyes and something glittering on the floor. Initially, Takashi did not want to get up. He groaned and rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but the sun had already filled the room, making it impossible to evade or to sleep. Takashi rolled around for a bit, throwing his blankets over his head and trying sleep like that, but found himself too hot and still with the sun in his eyes. Heaving a heavy sigh, Takashi pulled the blankets down from his head, rolled over, and started to get out of bed.

A special something on the floor stopped him cold.

It was a sparkling, silver sliver of a thing, and having no idea what it was or what it's intention for being there was (Takashi couldn't sense the emotional affiliations of objects, or at least not ones that had been sitting alone, unused, for a very long time), Takashi naturally distrusted it. He put his foot back on the bed, and scrunched the rest of his body down so he could peer over the edge of the bed at the strange something. Takashi stared at the piece.

 _…_ _stare…_

 _…_ _starE…_

 _…_ _Stare…_

 _…_ _sTaRe…_

 _…_ _StArE..._

 _…_ _STARE…_

 _-STARE-_

The piece of silver did nothing. Even after ten minutes of intense staring, the piece of silver did nothing. To combat this, Takashi pouted. He stared harder. He _glared_.

… The piece of silver light did nothing.

Takashi blinked at the strange thing sitting on the floor of his bedroom. Slowly, cautiously, he extended an arm, a hand, a finger… and touched it.

… It was warm to the touch. Takashi jerked a little, staring wide-eyed at the piece of silver string, but it wasn't hurting him (if anything, Takashi might've been hurting _it_ with how hard he's pushing into the thing), and furthermore, there was sunlight all around the room, so why wouldn't this little tiny piece of metal be warm?

Logic settled, Takashi wrapped his hand around the silver string and attempted to pull it. It did not move. There seemed to be something anchored on one end, Takashi realized, so he pulled on the silver string some more to figure out where most of the weight was. With a yank, Takashi pulled the string up violently, and was startled when his bedroom door jerked open, a new rivet along the bottom of the door. Takashi blinked at the open door a few times, glanced at the silver string (wire?) in his hand, and shrugged to himself.

String in hand, Takashi got out of bed and wandered off, on a quest to figure out where the wire came from.

O X O

 **Wire (#3) – Skull**

Skull was in the basement. How did he know this? Well, the boiler was a dead give-away, but the fact that the room was small, made almost entirely out of cement, and smelled faintly of lead pipes* also clued him in.

Skull blinked down at the little room, tied upside down in steel wire and possessing no recollection of how he got there or the day that it was. Skull eyed his(?) leather and purple get-up, wondering if they were indeed his, and if so, why did he dress like this? He looked like he had self-esteem issues, or at least something to hide… And why wouldn't his head stop pounding?! Skull breathed deeply and groaned loudly, his lips twisted in an upside-down frown as his headache got even worse. It felt like there was a bomb or a helium balloon in his head that was expanding outwards with little to no regards to the borders of Skull's head. In a pitiful effort for respite, Skull closed his eyes.

Silence.

Then,

"Why are you tied to the ceiling?" a small, high-pitched voice asked. They sounded like they were just below him, and Skull opened his eyes, desperate to get out.

"Please, man, ya gotta get me out!" Skull cried, begging with his eyes and his words for the wide-eyed little boy to save him, "I don't know where, what I'm doing here, or who I am, but please, help me down!"

Skull turned up the Puppy Eyes 2.0, determined to get down, "I really need to go to the bathroom… !" Seriously, it felt like someone took a hammer to his bladder _and_ his head… ! Skull was going to make himself piss his pants if he kept thinking about it, so he directed his efforts to _not_ thinking about his bladder and using the tears his head and bladder were causing him, to convince the boy below to save him.

The boy, for his part, looked noticeably unnerved, but stood strong. "I need to go talk to my dad," he hedged (Skull's heart dropped to his shoes; for some reason, the thought of this boy's father made his headache worse), "How do I know you're not an intruder?" the boy asked.

Unconsciously, Skull's eyebrow twitched. "If I managed to get in, steal something, and _then_ get caught by my own tools, I deserve to get caught," Skull told the boy seriously. He attempted a shrug, but it didn't work with the steel wire binding him in place. "Plus, wouldn't you notice if I had something on me?" Skull added, hoping to get the kid moving again. He _really_ needed to pee. And an ibuprofen. And maybe a bath (he didn't know how long he'd been in this leather trap, but it's been _too_ long).

The boy below narrowed his eyes and surveyed Skull's small body suspiciously. Truly, even if Skull had stolen something small, like a ring or a broach, it would appear ginormous on him, and thus would become immediately apparent. Seeing as there was nothing on Skull's body (well, besides his stuff and the wires), he hoped this would end the matter. True to form, the boy's eyes flickered over Skull's body a couple times, glancing suspiciously at the helmet Skull wore, but found nothing that was stolen or otherwise note-worthy (well, except for the bobble around Skull's neck, but not even Skull knew what to do with that).

Slowly, cautiously, the little boy nodded. "I'll go see what I can do," he promised, and scampered off. Unconsciously, Skull's eyebrow twitched. _That was a really vague promise to make…_

…

Skull was bored. He'd done what he could, and help was on the way, but that was for his physical being, not his mental. Try as he might, Skull's scattered memories would not come back. And, since thinking about it just made the headache worse, Skull stopped trying. Instead, he stared down at the floor.

The cement floor.

The gray cement floor.

The gray, flat, and terribly dull, cement floor. Which was the only thing Skull could look at without his head being torn off at the neck. Skull closed his eyes and sighed. "Boring…" he grumbled, before opening his eyes again. Closing his eyes meant there was nothing distracting Skull from his bladder, and he'd rather look at the floor than pee his pants _(... well, it would be something to do..._ ).

… There was something on the floor. Skull squinted down at the floor, wondering whatever it could possibly be. To his surprise, Skull's vision improved drastically and he could see the—

The door opened, admitting in the little boy with a big ladder, but before he could totter in Skull yelled, "Don't move!"

His heart in his mouth, Skull saw Takashi (? – how did he know the boy's name?) stutter to a halt, surprised and accidentally knocking the ladder against the cement wall. The little boy, barely seven years old, huffed. "Did you _want_ to get down?" he asked rudely, annoyed at having fetched the (heavy) ladder, wobbled all the way back here, and discovered his aid unwanted.

But Skull knew different. His eyes flared dangerous at the boy, at Takashi: "If you step forward," Skull said seriously, "You'll cut your foot open."

Takashi's eyes widened minutely, and evidentially the grip he had on the ladder loosened, because it thudded gently at the wall, now doing more than wobbling nearby. "How do you know that?" Takashi asked, his voice clear, but wavering on the edges.

Skull took a moment to be puzzled at the kid's quick belief in strangers before being thankful it was so, and saying, "Those spots of light on the floor? They're pieces of steel wire. They're sharp enough to cut through a man's mid-drift in two seconds. Don't. Touch. Them," Skull stressed, worried that this little kid, this little boy who wanted and went to help a complete stranger, would end up with his foot severely injured, bleeding out while Skull was trapped up on the ceiling, unable to move, and too far from hearing to call for help.

But Takashi just blinked at Skull, and then at the crisscrossing wires. Slowly, Takashi crouched down to the ground with the ladder, and inspected one of the 'light spots'. Then he snorted, confusing Skull, especially when Takashi looked up and smiled. "They're harmless," he reassured the 'man' floating above, and stood up with the ladder and started walking.

Before Skull could rush into more pleas, threats, or warnings (perhaps a few cuss words if Skull was feeling up to it), the little boy stepped on a piece of silver light, and walked away, unaffected. Skull stared, incredulous, as the little boy made his way across the space, his face as nonchalant as the ladder was wobbly. Once the boy was close enough for the ladder to be of use, Skull quickly put his foot out, worried that the wobbly ladder might hit him in the face. The boy below huffed, but said nothing. He put the ladder down the ground and, with Skull bracing it, started to climb the ladder.

Skull's eyes widened. "Hey, hey, hey!" he yelped, maneuvering his other leg around the steel mesh to support the other, "What are you doing?! You could get hurt!" Skull yelped shrilly when Takashi purposely shook the ladder into falling (it fell onto the cement wall behind Skull). Skull's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he stared at his 'savior', stupefied.

Grabbing a handful of mesh and with a half-smug, half-proud lilt to his lips, Takashi told Skull, "You said that the last time. It wasn't true," Takashi grunted, having just now discovered that picking up and walking across the fine wires was very different from trying to pick them apart. Takashi growled at the filaments in his hands, concentrating with all the force a seven-year-old boy can muster into glares and pulling. Takashi huffed, unsuccessful, and loosened his grip (he tried with his teeth instead).

Skull stared at the boy, not a little bit speechless. "You're insane," he blurt out, and then blinked rapidly when Takashi glared harshly at him, the mesh in his teeth and hands an obvious warning. Skull sighed. "Sorry," he said softly, and scooted over (as much as he could anyway) to give the boy some room to work. The boy grunted, but said nothing else, choosing his work over conversation.

Silence.

While Takashi worked, Skull contemplated the lad, and couldn't seem to get his head around the idea of someone walking over fine metal wires without a scratch to show for it. And, if Takashi's continued efforts were anything to go by, the same applied to pulling and prying sharped steel nets. Skull stared, his attention caught and curiosity peaked.

"… How'd you walk across all that wire?" he finally asked, unable to keep his questions silent any longer. Takashi looked up, frustration and suspicion waring with curiosity on his face. There was an unsettling amount of deadly wire between his teeth… or at least, according to Skull, it was.

Takashi shrugged. "It's warm," he said, "I can pick it up when it's warm." Takashi shrugged again, having no more words to describe this 'amazing phenomenon', and went back to work. Unbeknownst to him, his words had sparked something in Skull, and his headache was pushed to the side in favor of his racing thoughts.

"You… can you make them warm, the wires?" Skull asked, hesitant to voice his theory, but excited to see if it was true.

Takashi looked up again, his expression more mild and his movements half-hearted now. The conversation was interesting (and the work was unfruitful), but Takashi shrugged. "Well, yeah," he said, "Can't everyone?"

Skull's heart picked up the pace. "Focus on the feeling," he managed to say smoothly, uninterrupted by his bouncing nerves, "I think it might be able to get me out."

Takashi raised an eyebrow. "I highly doubt body heat is the answer here," he said drily, his wire-pulling having almost completely stopped.

Skull smiled without meaning it. "I meant with your heart," he added, "Imagine that there's a flame attached from your heart to the wire, and that that flame is strong enough to melt even the strongest of wires," Skull encouraged, excited to see the results of his improv-teaching.

Takashi looked unsure, but he closed his eyes, presumably in meditation while Skull eyed him impatiently, excited to see the what would be produced, and in a hurry to get to the bathroom. Skull watched and waited until Takashi's eyes snapped open, an intense light to his blue-grey eyes, and a faint, pale blue glow whispered across the steel wires. Under Skull's eager (and Takashi's increasingly wide) eyes, the wires slackened, softened, and became so dull that Skull easily pulled himself out of the wire net, smiling widely and intensely pleased to be out alive.

In a feat of showmanship that Skull so rarely practiced nowadays, Skull took Takashi by the waist, transported them down to the floor, and stopped the ladder from falling, all in a couple seconds. Still grinning widely, Skull put the stiff little boy off to the side, said, "Excuse me," and then made a break for the bathroom. Takashi stared after him, stupefied.

O X O

In an illusionary garden with crystal flowers and a chessboard set between two cups of tea, Checkerface smiled. "Your turn," he murmured softly to the breeze, which whispered back happily before moving on to other parts of the garden.

The game had begun.

O X O

 ***This the year 1996; they still have lead pipping. I'm basing this date off the year KHR is based off of btw (2004).**

 **So, yeah. This was the last of the fluff, and the beginning of the next part. Yeah. Hope y'all enjoy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to go the bathroom. *runs off***

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	22. Flames on the Horizon

Takashi stared silently at the floor, willing the world to change back to what he knew, and hating that in his heart of hearts, he had no real hopes of such. Had wishing turned back the clock on his mother's departure? Had dreaming canceled his ability to look at people and know exactly what they were feeling? No, dreaming had done nothing for him.

Or at least, dreaming of the past had done nothing. Slowly, Takashi looked up from the floor, still silent, and gazed at the boiler. It was new; a couple months ago, around the time that Takashi's mother left ( _his heart sunk and his eyes felt heavy, like lead paint on wet canvas, but he pushed that all down_ ), the city inspected their home and found traces of radioactivity. Takashi didn't really understand what was going on at the time, only that his parents were arguing (again), he was forbidden from entering the cellar, and that his heart felt like crumpling wet origami paper every time he heard the doors slam or his parents freeze the air with their stares ( _how do you think Takashi got to be so skinny? He could barely stand to be in the same room as his parents when they got in a funk, let alone_ eat).

Takashi sighed and looked away, his dark eyes finding the cellar door and lightening. But he had hope for this time. This time, he was not alone.

O X O

August 15th, 1996 : Just before midnight on the day of the Bon summer festival

Tsuyoshi stared after Kawahira, a salted cucumber in one hand and a bag of goldfish in the other. There were quite a few other objects loading Tsuyoshi down as well, such as Kawahira's audacious purse, a half-eaten stick of cotton candy, half a dozen different prizes Kawahira had won at various booths, and the lone (empty) cup of green tea Tsuyoshi had bought to steady his nerves. Unconsciously, his eyes flickered back towards his friend's ( _bright, bright, blinding oh so bright_ ) back, and he picked up the pace, afraid of being left behind.

Kawahira was stone-cold drunk.

Tsuyoshi could feel a twitch developing over one eye as he watched Kawahira stumble from place to place, laughing loudly and occasionally tripping over his overly large (and overly poofy) geta into someone, whereupon Tsuyoshi- goddamnit, it happened again! Tsuyoshi exhaled through his nose sharply, bunched up all Kawahira's prizes like a shield or a plow, and bulldozed through the crowd to get to Kawahira.

A few people fell, a lot of people stared, but Tsuyoshi got through and Kawahira grinned widely, looking up at his friend. "Yoshi-kun!" Kawahira sang, his arms wrapped around his most recent victim (a middle-aged woman who looked very much in over her head), and a pink flush about the cheeks. "Toshi-kun…" Kawahira crooned, sliding forward along his victim's breasts and almost toppling over, his geta raised in the air as the older woman, still clearly out of her depth, caught him.

Tsuyoshi wore his smile easily as he moved forward, "Sorry _obaa-san_ *," he apologized, setting Kawahira's prizes to the side and picking the man up off the woman (who looked wary that he was about to faint onto her too). "It's his first summer festival," Tsuyoshi grinned, "Please, excuse him." The older woman stared suspiciously at Tsuyoshi's broad smile, her eyes occasionally flickering down to Kawahira (who was staring intently at the pink stuffed kitten he'd won in a shooting contest) before returning back to Tsuyoshi's smile. The smile never wavered (though Tsuyoshi did feel a little heated under such a glare).

A beat.

The older woman snorted. "Do your own thing," she drawled, surprising Tsuyoshi with her American accent** as she sent a furtive, burning look at Kawahira, who, having sensed the animosity, looked up from the pink kitten. He blinked innocently at the woman, causing her nostrils to flare. "Just get him away from me." The lady sneered, showing off multiple wrinkles and a pair of flashing brown eyes. Tsuyoshi, however, forever armed with a smile, smiled, and excused he and Kawahira. The lady's upper lip curled, but she said nothing as Tsuyoshi darted away, having difficulty balancing his things and Kawahira, but managing.

Once they were out of hearing range, Kawahira snorted, loudly. "She was rude," he told Tsuyoshi, having taken the pink kitten into his hands during Tsuyoshi's crowd-grappling, and was now fiddling with it absently. The pink flush on his cheeks was mysteriously absent. Tsuyoshi blinked, wondering if he was seeing things, and discreetly moved the two (and their stuff) into the lamplight, just to make sure time hadn't deteriorated his eyes.

Kawahira looked up, a cat-like smile lingering around the corners of his mouth. "What?" he teased, "Did you think I was drunk?"

Tsuyoshi blinked, hard. If he had not been imagining the lack here… how had there been a blush earlier? Tsuyoshi blinked again, and then his brow started to furrow. Kawahira, having turned back to his kitten, seemed oblivious. Tsuyoshi frowned lightly, left alone with his thoughts.

The furrow between his brow became deeper and deeper the longer Tsuyoshi thought and stared at Kawahira. It could've been just a simple fluke, caused by the poor lighting and a lack of food (Tsuyoshi's stomach growled mutely, a subtle eruption of gas bubbles Tsuyoshi wished he could appease), but then that was just disproven by Tsuyoshi's test for Kawahira's blush, both here, in the light, and back where Tsuyoshi noticed, in the dark. And that wording…

Tsuyoshi frowned. "Kawahira-san," he started to say-

But was cut off by the hood over his head.

O X O

 ***Literally 'aunty', but can be applied to older women as 'missus'.**

 ****Foreigners are a rare thing in Japan. I should know, since for the past couple days I've been researching citizenships and visas... !**

 ***grumbling* Seriously guys, would it kill you to leave a review?**


	23. Make New Friends

Skull sighed pleasantly as he stepped back into the cellar. "I have regained my respect for the porcelain throne," he told Takashi happily, his body much more relaxed now than earlier. Takashi blinked at him, not really understanding what he was saying and not really planning to comment either. Skull flushed a little and tried to explain, "The porcelain throne, the loo, the bathroom..." Skull trailed off, embarrassed by the raised eyebrow and amused half-smirk, half-smile Takashi was wearing.

Skull cough. "Well then," he said busily, deciding to ignore his rosy cheeks and moving into Takashi's space with a grin, "You ready to learn?"

Takashi frowned. "What are you talking about?" He asked, and took a small step back to regain his personal space. Skull grinned all the more for it, pleased to note that he could a), affect the kid, and b), that the kid had the self-confidence to do what made him feel comfortable (e.g., regaining his personal space). It was the mark of someone who could follow orders, but not in blind faith, something the mafia industry was sorely lacking at the moment (subconsciously, Skull's body sagged).

Takashi blinked at Skull, his expression wary. "What?" he muttered, "Is there something on my face?"* Dark eyes looked down, as if checking for bits of food on the cheeks below.

Skull grinned, charmed. "Nah," he said, poking a finger into Takashi's chest, "Wha'chu got you is right here." Skull grinned and poked Takashi's breastbone again, even as little fingers and furrowed dark eyes tried to catch him.

Takashi's eyebrow twitched, and his lips stuck out in a mulish pout. "Stop poking me," he grumbled, "And you sound like one of the motivational posters from school," Takashi added, his eyebrows twitching harder as he tried without success to catch Skull's poking, prodding (not to mention elusive) fingers. Skull snickered, amused by the comparison (and the threat), as he poked Takashi harder.

Takashi's eyes flashed dangerously. "I said stop poking me!" He yelped, his jaw snapping shut as Skull's poke turned into a powerful flick. Takashi made to growl, but aborted when he saw Skull's face. The purple-coated smile was gone. Skull even looked serious. Takashi stared at him... fascinated.

Skull told him, "Rule number one; I'm doing this for your own good, so don't yell at me." Takashi twitched and his dark eyes flashed mutinously, but he said nothing. His Flames did all the talking; they rippled through the close quarters, raising Skull's guard (usually so closely guarded) and his hackles. Skull tensed, ready to run (if that's what it came to).

Takashi blinked. He stared, and he saw. At some point in the past year or so, his empathy had faded into the background. It was still undeniably there, shading and coloring his every move, but it was less of a selling point, and more of an attraction. Right now though, Takashi could see very, very clearly the rearing purple and tiny green snakes (anxiety and trauma-induced adrenaline), and beyond that... there was a stranger. A stranger dressed in a purple jumpsuit with a motorcycle helmet under one and a face full of paint (not to mention suspicion; subconsciously, Takashi's posture sagged).

Honestly, Takashi didn't know this person, and by accounts this person didn't him.

To Skull, this was a moment charged with tension. Takashi's stare seemed to cut him straight to the bone, seeing things that not even the Acrobaleno had. To be frank, it scared him. So Skull's guard was up, his Flames were ready, and if it came to a fight, well, Skull would just have to explain to his 'employer' (he had vague recollections of a man in white and green telling him to look after this brat) that he wasn't cut out for babysitting (none of the Acrobaleno were; they were _assassins_ , not **nannies** ).

So it surprised all the more when Takashi, somewhat bashfully, extended his hand. " _Hajimemashita_ ," /Nice to meet you,/ he said quietly, "My name is Yamamoto Takashi**. What's yours?"

(Without either of them noticing, Takashi's Flames had retracted.)

O X O

 ***You don't stare at people you're talking to directly when you're talking to them. It's too... threatening.**

 ****In Japan, family names are said before given names (in introductions).**

 **FUCK, this was a bad chapter. T^T I think my plans for revision (after the whole work is done) just got that much more real. SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING ON FRIDAY. I had three make-or-break projects that were due during the week, and while I did get the time to sit down and write a first draft (in my notebook, and immediately after a test), I didn't get to publish. And then yesterday I had dance practice from 10:00 to 3:30, and a performance from 3:30 to 5:00... ! And then my dad treated me to French food. It was good, but exhausting, and I'm so so sorry I didn't post! X I will be better, I promise!**

 **Read and review, if only to curse me out. Please and thank you.**


	24. But Keep the Old

When Tsuna woke up after a long night spent waiting, he didn't think he'd be tired. Truthfully, he wasn't tired then either. He just kind of sighed and moved on with his life; he shoved the blankets off his bed, scurried across the cold floor, and tiptoed downstairs, just in case. Tsuna grinned to himself as he escaped down the stairs, both hands on the walls, and his feet silent. He didn't trip.

Downstairs, Nana was in the kitchen. Tsuna could hear the sounds of something frying mixed with the clack of polished plates and the quieter thud of tea cups* as Nana put away the dishes. It was her morning ritual. Nana had once told Tsuna that she washed the dishes first thing in the morning so that she could wake up without burning the house down, which was infinitely more expensive than breaking a plate or a cup. Tsuna smiled, wrapped up in happy thoughts, but the smile dimmed when he took a hard whiff of the living room. No alcohol. Tsuna winced, his smile dropped entirely, and he waddled over to the kitchen, wary of his mother right now.

Iemitsu always drank when he was home; to say that he had not been here, on such an important night… Tsuna held his breath as he ducked into the kitchen, scared. Inside, Tsuna found his mother hard at work, a smile plastered to face (Tsuna winced; it was that painful to look at, like someone had taken a Barbie girl's face, cut it off, and sewed it onto Nana's face), and a couple saucepans going. "Ohayo** Tsu-kun!" Nana chirped, smiling like a doll as she reached one of the cupboards to put something away. The cupboard in question was close to the ground, so Tsuna scurried over with a quiet 'ohayo' and to pull back the (stuck) cupboard door.

Nana beamed and ruffled Tsuna's hair, but she didn't say anything else. Not to Tsu-kun. She started babbling about the breakfast (pan-fried vegetables with rice and flan***), about the weather (cloudy, with a chance of sun or rain, depending on the wind), and about her plans for the day. As Nana rambled about baseball stitches**** and groceries, Tsuna quietly helped her clean up. When Nana needed a(-nother stuck) cupboard pulled open, Tsuna was right there, pulling and tugging the stupid thing into obedience, at which point Nana would beam and ruffle his hair some more. Tsuna didn't like it, since Iemitsu broke his promise ( ** _again_** ) and Nana was warbling like a radio stuck on static (that is to say, not very well), but he stuck by and pulled the stuck cupboards open, took the head-rubbing without fuss, and, even though it was heart-stabbing, listened to everything Nana had to say.

Nana beamed when they finished. "We're all done!" she chirped, smiling again when Tsuna finished wiping down a wet spot and handed her the towel. "Now," Nana said, her smile ever-present, "Would Tsu-kun like some breakfast?*****" Nana grinned as Tsu-kun's lips flickered upwards. He nodded, sending her off into an excited squeal and a dash about the kitchen.

Hiding a wince (his mother's antics were always this much worse when Iemitsu broke his promises), Tsuna quietly wandered over to the kitchen table, listening as his mother rambled and ranted about various things ("I tell you, this cupboard has it out for me!" she squealed, nursing her hand from where she'd hit it for the umpteenth on the same wooden door, bringing a snicker out of Tsuna – one she grinned at like a prize-winning champ), and smiling politely when his food arrived. Tsuna waited until his mother's food was plated and set besides him, said 'itadakimasu', and ate.

It wasn't that his mother's food wasn't good, but that Tsuna was tired. Had become tired. He was tired because he was tired of similar nights with similar promises and similarly tasteless food. Tsuna hid a grimace as he took another bite;

It had been their wedding anniversary.

O X O

Takashi was running. He was running hard, he was running fast, and it still wasn't good enough. He yelped and ducked and covered as one of those shiny objects ( _kunai_ , Skull had called them*******) nicked his leg and another one almost took his head off. Swearing (he was quite fluent at it, courtesy of his father, Kawahira, the old man, and countless books/manga), Takashi hit the ground rolling, sprung up again, and almost got a new haircut for his trouble. Takashi glared at the empty room, cursing in his head as evil chuckles erupted around the room.

"Why, Taka-kun, such a potty mouth~!" Skull grinned, taking pleasure in the spike of fear and/but smooth sprint Takashi executed to get away from the posterior-facing predator. Skull allowed himself to cackle. "Never show your back!" he called, another kunai in motion and his body disappearing in a flash of purple.*******

(Skull, as it turns out, was terrible at traditional testing.)

…

Takashi blinked sleepily, a yawn coming out of him that he let go through his ears******** as Skull blinked blearily besides him, just as tired, if not more. Takashi's eyebrow twitched. "Why are we doing this?" he finally asked, having had the question before, but was only now safe enough to ask. He twitched again, bringing a smile to Skull's face, as the slap-wearing baby sucked in a breath to explain.

"You need training."

Takashi grunted, twitching again. "Why?" _'And why do you get to decide?'_ Takashi silently fumed, annoyed at his own lack of power and even more annoyed that twitching was all he seemed to be doing right now. Well, that, and talking.

Skull grinned. He tried to leap up, but fell back with a groan, so twisted around to explain. "You remember that feeling you had before, when I was on the ceiling and you melted the wires holding me up?" Takashi blinked and nodded slowly, knowing the little boy besides him could feel the movement. Skull nodded back, though a lot more decisively. "You could kill someone with those."

Takashi's head snapped around. "What?" he said, his volume good but his tone wavering. Skull nodded grimly.

"Picture this," he said, waving his hand to gesture to… well, something (preferably something imagined and not in the tiny cellar that surrounded them), "A man is having a heart attack-" Takashi's eyes widened, "-and you know CPR. I know, I know, but for the sake of the argument, say that you do. Knowing CPR, you approach this person; your heart is pumping, your hands are shaking and it feels like the world just gained five hundred pounds, but you rush forward to help. One touch and he's dead."

Skull grimaced at Takashi's wide, round eyes. "Kid," he said gently, "What you have, this gift," Skull poked Takashi in the chest, gently this time, "It could seriously hurt someone. Not because you want it to," Skull hastily said, overriding Takashi's protests before he could interrupt, "But because in high-stress situations, that feeling, those Flames," Skull's dark eyes got a little darker, a little sadder, "They'll want to protect you, and protect you they shall, even at the cost of others."

Silence. Takashi was trembling, ever so slightly, and to be honest, it killed Skull to be doing this to a kid, but he sealed the deal with a quiet 'That's why I'm training you,' a pat on the shoulder, and his disappearance. The kid needed some time to think, and Skull could definitely give him that.

(That was the only way to reach peace; self-reflection. That, or self-demolition.)

O X O

When Tsuna (finally!) turned up, Takashi was lying in the middle of the cellar floor, staring up at the ceiling, and looking even more morose than usual. Seriously, he looked like he'd aged ten years in one night. So, naturally, Tsuna just _had_ to run and jump onto Takashi's stomach!

With a whoosh and a gag and a roll, Takashi was on the other side of the room, clutching his stomach and glaring down at Tsuna (?), who blinked at him, taken aback, and not understanding the distance that was now between them. Takashi was even trembling! He backed up when Tsuna moved towards him.

Tsuna tried to shake it off with a laugh. "Ne," he teased, one hand forward as he got up, "If you have any bruises, I'll be sure to take care of them!" Tsuna beamed, but his smile twitched when Takashi flinched, violently, and away from him. Takashi's eyes… the walls were back up. It killed Tsuna a little inside to see that, and being hurt, when it was stupid and unnecessary, made him angry.

Tsuna scowled. "What's your problem?" He said lowly, almost growling, and was taken aback when Takashi flinched. He was saddened to notice Takashi tense up, as if he was about to run and needed only a straight path to the door before he ditched. Tsuna took a step forward, trying to change that, and also changed tactics. "Taka-kun?" he asked quietly, his voice coated lightly in honey, "What's wrong?"

Takashi continued to shake, but he didn't flinch. His walls were still up, but he looked down, not at Tsuna. Tsuna waited.

Takashi licked his lips. "If you touch me," he said tremulously, "You could die." Takashi blinked, hard, as if there was something inside him he was hoping to keep inside, away from Tsuna.

For his part, Tsuna didn't really understand the situation, but damn if Takashi was going to keep something from him. Tsuna huffed. "Well if you've got the cooties," he grinned, taking another (flinch-inducing, painful) two steps forward, "Don't worry; I've secretly had them all along!" Tsuna grinned, now standing right next to Takashi. Takashi continued to shake, shake, and Tsuna could now see, at this distance, how fast his eyes were zipping, how they weren't looking at him.

Tsuna frowned, asked, "Takashi?" and Takashi broke. He bolted like a bat out of hell (or like there was a kunai on his heels), and would've probably made it too (Tsuna was pants at catching, as evidenced by his half-flail, half-flop of a grab for Takashi), if Skull hadn't appeared in the doorway to catch Takashi. Skull's face was like thunder and something under his eye was twitching like crazy, as he turned to Takashi (Tsuna thought for sure he was going to die).

"You _could_ tell people why you can't touch them," Skull said drily, his displeasure evident. The muscle under his eye spasmed again as he eyed Takashi, who was trying (unsuccessfully) to turn into a rolly-polly, before turning his dark and heavy eyes on Tsuna. Tsuna wanted to tremble, like Takashi, but he held firm. He wanted his Takashi back, and this mountain of a man (baby?) was the only one keeping them apart. Tsuna's glare sharpened, peaking Skull's deeply, deeply hidden interest.

But first, there was a lot of explaining to do.

O X O

 ***Tea cups in Japan, traditional ones like the ones I picture in the Sawada home, are made from either ceramic or plastic, not china or porcelain, as they are in the West. So they don't make as much noise… usually. Blowing up one in the kiln would probably be that much louder.**

 ****I didn't translate this since 'ohayo' has become one of those otaku icons everyone knows about, but I did feel like I should mention that this is the informal version; 'ohayo gozaimasu' is the formal way to put it, and though Tsuna should technically be saying the formal version to his mother, since she's older than him, I wrote him informally 'cause it's his freaking** **mother** **.**

 *****Flan, for those of you out there who are foodies or watch/read/play foodie things, may know that flan is a kind of caramel desert/pudding. It's really, really sweet, so I personally can't stand it, but the texture and taste appeals to many kids in Japan, who have been spoiled succinct by red bean paste/anko, and in various other interested countries, such as France, Korea and China.**

 ******THIS IS AN ACTUAL THING. I hate baseball stiches, since I find the one with the witch in name to be much more practical (not mention plain easier), but as a professional housewife doing a lot of darning, I figure Nana's** **very** **intimate with baseball stitches. Also, the Japanese have this weird habit of buying what they need for dinner right before they cook it, which still doesn't make sense to me and probably never will, but it's a thing and I thought I'd explain it.**

 *******The Japanese are very particular about being polite, and that carries over into their language. Rare is the person of Japan who will** ** _not_** **use honorifics in some way, shape or form, and rarer still is the person who uses pronouns/what Japan substitutes for pronouns when they know your name. So, Nana in this situation was just being polite. And I wanted to confuse the audience. (*Nana smiles pleasantly* *high five* *grins*)**

 ********Kunai are those little knife things that Naruto and Sasuke and that crew use, so go look up 'kunai naruto' if you want to know what they look like, but I also wanted to include this note to mention that** **I have no idea what Skull's fighting style is like** **. I'm exercising my artistic rights to fashion him a new one, one that fits his badassery. On another note, Skull seems to have become my muse. Huh.**

 *********I have forgotten which color/shade of purple cloud Flames are. If someone could get back to me on that, that'd be great, because I have work in twenty minutes, and I'll add that in when I revise.**

 **********I yawn through my ears. It's totally possible, and moreover, I thought it fit rather well with the over-arching Japanese theme of politeness. Where I live, you can yelled at for yawned at the wrong place or time. Did I mention I don't understand humans?**

 ***groans* Why did I do this to myself? Why are my characters being so angsty?! Okay, yeah, this fic is based on initial angst, but don't let the angst take over… ! Minions, assemble. *I-Pin and Lambo snap to attention, with an amused Tsuna and Takashi standing nearby* Protect the integrity of this fic. *troops alternatively nod enthusiastically, not at all, solemnly, or quirk an eyebrow* For the sake of credibility, I feel like I should also mention that Takashi is based on the ElevenYearOld!Me, and Tsuna is based on the me of now mixed with some of EightYearOld!Me's relationship with me mum. She's a turd. Well, was a turd. She's still a turd, but don't tell her I said that. She'd kill me.**

 **EDIT: *buries head in hands* *blushing madly* ... There was a typo. A really, really bad typo that could possibly land me in prison or alternate hot water for having wrote. I wrote... 'If you took me, I could kill you,' not 'If you touch me... I could kill you.' *muffled cackle* *shaking head* Corrupting teens everywhere, one step at a time...**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	25. One Is Silver

Skull took in a deep breath, held it in, and let it go. He sighed, and opened his eyes. "Oi," he muttered, "Are either of you guys gonna talk?" Skull's eyebrow twitched as he stared down the two kindergarteners. Somewhat unconsciously, they both turned to face the threat; sweat collected on their brows and the backs of their necks, but they did not back down. It was rather admirable, Skull grudgingly admitted, and he would be impressed, if it wasn't for the stifling silence all around them.

 _... Silence…_

Skull twitched.

It was still silent.

"Oi," he hissed, standing up and blackening the area with his fury, "WHEN ARE YOU GUYS GONNA START TALKING?!" Skull shouted, bowling Tsuna and Takashi over with sheer wind-power. Tsuna went head over heels backwards, but Takashi, being more used to his teacher(?)'s eccentric ways, managed to stick in place long enough to be knocked over by BowlingBowl!Tsuna. They rolled and slid and crashed into the back wall, ending Skull's mini-tantrum with a collective sweatdrop.

Skull twitched, again, as the observed human meatball against the back wall stayed in place, growing redder and hotter the more that time went on. Skull twitched, but then he sighed and moved forward, having thusly decided that these idiots needed an adult to deal with their shizillpops.

Skull plopped down next to the two blushing, silent boys. "Oi," he said, leaning over to look Tsuna in the eye, "You want to know why Takashi can't touch you, right?" Skull observed the boy until his head hesitantly moved up and down. Skull nodded decisively and turned to Takashi. "And you," he said, "You want to keep your friend, right?" Takashi blinked hard, twitched his lips like he wanted to speak, but ultimately let his head do the talking: he nodded.

Skull's eyes softened. "Kid," he told Takashi, "If you want to keep your friend, ya gotta let him in some. Okay?" Skull added softly, watching Takashi carefully for any trembling or tears. There was trembling, but that's all there was. Skull prodded Takashi gently with his foot. "Kid," he said softly, "It's your turn now."

It was like a damn had been broken. Takashi took a deep, shuddering breath (still somewhat terrified to be so close to his best friend right now), but told the story. Well, what he knew of it. Skull pitched in about Flame types and his suspicions about Takashi's own (honestly, they were but guesses: it was up in the air at this point if Takashi was a Storm or a Rain), but mostly let Takashi talk about the silver string he found in the morning, the sight of Skull practically glued to the cellar ceiling, and the terrifying practice followed by the even more terrifying revelation. Skull had to admit, he was a little nervous how the conversation would go, but Tsuna seemed to be taking it remarkably well. The more Takashi talked, the more animate Tsuna became – the deadpan over Takashi's endless fascination with a tiny piece of string (which nearly broke Skull's somber mask, to be honest, but he kept it, if only so Takashi could move past the humongous blush Tsuna's deadpan incurred) evolved into a full-on glare that was, thankfully, pointed at Skull and not Takashi. Truthfully, Skull was little peeved (and proud) that this little half-pint thought himself worthy of glaring at his _sempai_ , but Takashi's relieved expression broke the tension.

… And then the silence re-descended.

Tsuna was too busy glaring at Skull and mulling over what he'd heard to really strike up a conversation, and he was the sort of person that assumes that everything is fine with their friends so long as their friends say nothing. In other words, Tsuna was ignoring Takashi in favor of Skull because Tsuna thought that the whole I-step-you-flinch-OUCH situation had been resolved.

Takashi, for his part, was one part terrified, the other part petrified. Not only was Tsuna ignoring him, but he was purposefully ticking off his sensei. The one that, not too long ago, blew them over with a yell. Seriously, shouldn't that be warning enough… ?

Skull was actually multi-tasking. He, much like Tsuna, was of the mind that this could all be resolved now that they'd talked about it, and was so more worried about Takashi's training regime than a measly little glare like Tsuna's. And it was within reason; truth be told, Skull had never taught anyone before. He had been utterly hopeless at school, to the point where he had been withdrawn from school early, and so had never had a one-on-one/classmate-teaching-classmate experience. Furthermore, during his tenure as a professional stuntman, strategist, and assassin, he was alternatively too high- or too low-class to pass on his knowledge to anyone else.

So, for all sakes and purposes, it was actually of vital importance that Skull ignored Tsuna's weak glare and worried about how in god's name he was going to teach Takashi. On one hand, he could continue down the route he'd seen Reborn follow, filled with (headache-inducing) lectures and pain-filled practical lessons, or Skull could forge his own path. On one hand, Reborn had achieved much, and the disciples that were forced on him by various famiglia always ended up being at the top of the food chain. On the other hand… the one time that Skull had fought against a student of Reborn, he had found a girl so warped and twisted beyond recognition, that he had abandoned the fight, filled with pity and sorrow for a girl who was so cursed by heaven. To this day, Skull cannot stand the sight of anything pink.

So getting back to the task at hand, it was probably better for Skull to forge his own way, rather than risk such a catastrophic failure. Especially, Skull thought as he glanced over at his 'disciple', in the case of children. Warping children, Skull decided with a shudder, was a deed so terrible he wished he was a god, just so he could fix this whole mess of a world.

( _Ah,_ Skull smiled, _But isn't that what got us into this mess in the first place?_ )

As Skull continued to mull over the possibilities (and return Tsuna's glare with a vacant, if oddly formidable, expression), Takashi gulped. It wasn't very loud, not to the room at large, but to Takashi it was everything. His emotions were all over the place, and, as he had discovered recently, that feeling of being out of control threw his ability clean out of wack. Takashi's head hurt and pulsed with the various creatures (serpents of anxiety, panthers for power, cows for childbirth, crows for murder) zipping and zoomed about the room in fantastic colors:

 _Zip_. There went a purple tigeress chasing after a set of Easter eggs.

 _Zoom_. There went a set of serpents, hissing and squirming as they tried to untie themselves from their serpent-esque knot.

 _Za_ \- Takashi shut his eyes, trembling.

He knew it was foolish and weird and strange and a million other things, and he knew why he was out of control. It was silly, perhaps even more silly than having the mystical abilities Takashi possessed, but he was afraid. Deathly afraid, and a million other things besides. But most of all, sitting next to a cat-like (the glaring really only added to the image, like an indignant kitten upset that there was someone else drinking their milk) Tsuna, Takashi was afraid for their friendship. A lot had changed in such a short amount of time.

It was taking a while to sink in, all this new information, and to be honest, it felt like Takashi's head was going to explode at any second. The animals and wacky colors (Takashi's headache increased; the ceiling and the walls just joined the pulsing jambo) weren't helping any, and Takashi knew it was foolish and silly and a million other things, but he was trying to tie himself back together over Tsuna. To Tsuna. It was stupid and silly and not at all smart, like Takashi tried to be, but Tsuna had the potential to be the old and the new; what Takashi had had before (a beautiful friendship, a loving father, and a growing group of friends) he could have again... but only if Tsuna stayed. Truthfully, Tsuna was the only one keeping Takashi's world together, at the moment, considering everything that had happened recently.

 _So why wouldn't Tsuna say anything?!_

O X O

 **… This sucked. Badly. I wrought this at night, when I was very much sleep-deprived and hungry to boot. I'm sorry, there was more I was planning to add, but then I got a bunch of projects (Killua: *coughs loudly* Read; she got sucked into Hunter X Hunter) – shut up! – and I actually forgot about this. Well, kind of. I did complete this early… and in my defense, I thought I had a job interview immediately after school today… plus a million other things on my plate. *sighs* I know this chapter was subpar and the pacing is bad, but I was writing with the mindset of what I would do if my best and first friend ever found out that I tried to commit suicide. Actually, scratch that, the situation was very different (we literally binged on Chinese and then watched Mad Max: Fury Road; it was awesome), but I thought the mindset worked well. Well, until I went back and reread my _horrible_ work. T^T I'm sorry guys, this is late too…**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	26. And the Other's Gold

Having been blessed with a quickness of thought and a maturity that had nothing to do with his ESP, Skull was no longer dithering about whose method was right or wrong or even what his method would be. No, Skull had already decided all of that, and, with a piece of paper and a pen he'd asked Tsuna for (who grumpily and suspiciously but nevertheless, handed over), was putting the finishing touches down.

"Done!" Skull chirped, chapping the pen and offering it to Tsuna. Tsuna stared at it suspiciously, a slight sneer on his lips that marked the marker as poison. Undaunted, Skull put the marker down and showed his grand master plan to the boys. They stared at it blankly.

"Um," Takashi asked, "Is this supposed to be… something?" Takashi gestured helplessly at the drawing, unable to describe the sheer chaos contained within the page. His headache, already at odds with the environment, throbbed painfully at the sight of all those blues and reds and purples running together. Skull, while possessing grand maturity and skill, was no artist. Or at least, he couldn't draw. Well. Even Tsuna's eyes kinda wanted to water, just looking at it.

Oblivious, Skull shot an offended look at Takashi (who retreated into himself further after Skull looked down at the game plan). "What are you guys talking about? This," Skull poked a black spot on the page, "Is your training regime."

Takashi blinked. He blinked again. He studied the page a little harder. His head throbbed (for more than one reason).

Thankfully, Tsuna got the hint. Tsuna frowned heavily, "What the hell is it?" he asked bluntly, in that inspired way petulant children do when their parents don't how to explain why the sky isn't purple, "If you're so smart, why don't you explain it?" Tsuna frowned at Skull, daring him to not answer.

Skull twitched, and honestly considered this level of manipulation childish, but caved. "This," he said, pointing to another black spot, with some squiggly lines nearby that looked like snakes to Tsuna and Takashi, "Is me. I know, I'm a lot cooler in real life," Skull hid a grin at Tsuna's deadpan (Takashi just stared at the squiggles, trying to figure them out; they had so much pain around them…), "And this," Skull pointed to another black dot, this time with what appeared to be black rain, an inferno, and a giant book with a question mark next to it and more squiggles, "Is Takashi."

Both boys leaned in, their attention caught by the newly-revealed 'Takashi.' After a moment, Tsuna declared, "That looks nothing like Takashi," to which Takashi was duly relieved (personally, he didn't really fancy being blob of ink) and Skull was half-offended, half-embarrassed.

"Yes, well," Skull coughed pointedly, "It's a game plan, not a portrait. And this," Skull said loudly, over the loud and faintly piggish giggles Tsuna was spurting (plus Takashi's tiny -but present- grin), as he pointed to another section, which appeared in tangy yellow to Takashi. Intrigued, Takashi leaned forward, studying the new color of emotion. He listened quietly as Skull identified it to be a nebulous zone of either utmost importance or no interest, and refused to give more information, even as Tsuna pestered him with questions and Takashi laid heavy eyes on him. Still, Skull did not say. He moved back to the 'Takashi' spot, identifying the inky inferno as 'Flames' and the raindrops as 'kunai,' something that Tsuna got into a bit of a fit about, worried and finicky as he was. Takashi stayed quiet, not knowing enough to open his mouth, and studied the yellow patch on the paper. His eyes flickered up to Skull's face, which was becoming increasingly pinched from Tsuna's endless pestering. Takashi wanted to ask about the mysterious section again ( _I don't know, maybe he'll listen to the student if not the friend,_ Takashi thought drily), but before he could, Skull exploded again. Instinctively, Takashi wrapped himself up.

Skull glared long and hard at Tsuna. "Now you listen to me and you listen good young man," he hissed, annoyed beyond words and by _children_ no less!, "I am going to train Takashi. No, that is not up for debate. Yes, I have his best interests at heart, and  no, you may not participate." Skull glared harder, silencing the protest on Tsuna and Takashi's lips. Unconsciously, Skull's eye softened.

Still glaring, but with something… warm, in his eyes, Skull explained, "Tsuna, you're a great kid. You do your friend proud to be still sitting here, arguing with-" Skull almost said ' _assassin_ ' and then decided that was a one-way ticket to hell, "- an adult, even after hearing and seeing what I'm capable of." Skull allowed a small smile at Tsuna's puffed-up chest and Takashi's warm smile, before the smile slipped off and Skull became serious. He continued, "But this is not a matter for children. Yes," Skull held up a miniature hand, once again keeping the protests at bay, "I'm aware that Takashi is a children, and physically, I appear as one too. That is an issue I will _not_ address, so don't even try," Skull sent a pointed look Tsuna, who tucked his teeth under his lip and looked mulish, "But Takashi is in serious danger." Everyone's backs straightened. Skull spared an inward smile for how serious and adult-like these children were, before he explained, "Takashi's Flames are, at the moment, acting at the most basic and instinctual level. One touch, one wrong experience," Skull moved his hands apart, as if mimicking an explosion that expanded and expanded. Skull's fingers snazzled and turned into fists at the boys' serious (and stricken) visages, but he felt that it was best to keep the worst-case situation in mind. At the very least, it would keep Takashi from experiment on other people (something one of Reborn's students had done and which had ended very, very badly).

Skull sighed deeply. "So," he said, picking up the pen again and balancing it delicately, "Here's the plan: I don't know how long I'll be here, in Namimori, for, so I'll be as brief as possible." Skull put the pen to paper, illustrating the various bits and pieces of his plan. The boys leaned forward, intrigued, and listened attentively as he explained.

"First," Skull said, pointing to the 'Flames,' "We need to get Takashi used to his Flames. If we had more time, or at least an estimate of it, I'd start with meditation and maybe some yoga, but we don't have that luxury, so," Skull continued, pointing to the 'kunai,' "I'll be trying to bring out your Flames by putting you in life or death situations. No," he told Tsuna, who looked like he wanted to protest, "This is not up for debate. If your Flames don't come out naturally," Skull glanced guiltily over at Takashi, who looked whiter than usual, "Then I'll shut down the production for a while so you can sense the difference between Flames and not-Flames. It'll be painful and messy," Skull told Takashi apologetically, "But if you want to keep living happily and healthily, I think this is what we need to do." To Skull's pleasure, Takashi, though still pale, nodded.

Skull smiled, and brought the pen back to smack the book and question mark by 'Takashi.' "Once you've discovered your Flames," he said, "We'll start training your mind. If I had time, I would do physical conditioning, but again, we don't have that luxury," Skull shrugged, poking the pen into the paper, "So we'll train your mind to account for anything that might come up. Essentially," Skull looked up to stare Takashi right in the eyes, "You'd be your own trainer."

It was a lot of responsibility. Outside of the Acrobaleno and perhaps a handful of geniuses, Skull didn't know anyone who could face and make their own Flame techniques at age five, as Skull was planning to do with Takashi. And honestly, he still didn't know why he was doing it. By all accounts, he should be well away from here, tending to his injuries or trying to figure out where his lost memories had gone (there were patches in there that left Skull feeling uncomfortable; sooner or later, he was going to have to meditate himself down to find out what was going on), but still, here he was, Skull Dominguez, preparing himself for a commitment that may or may not end badly, without any idea of why he was doing this. Truly, he should be worried.

But Skull shrugged it off. He hadn't known what to expect with Kawahira, and that hadn't ended nearly as badly as Reborn predicted. Why couldn't this go well to? Skull grinned, ignoring the parts of him that rustled and muttered dark thoughts about dark things. "So," he asked, his tone jovial, the pen once again light in his hand, "Who's ready for some training?"

The pen was the first to go. Tsuna wasn't long after.

O X O

Reborn took in a deep breath. He pulled in the air, the light, the water and the scents in through his nose and held it, as if by breathing he could simply melt into the background and never be found again. Reborn held his breath a moment longer, and then he sighed, letting out the sights and smells of Namimori through his mouth. If only, he thought, he had never asked for a pint of beer.

At seven o'clock in the morning, Reborn stumbled as he walked, unnoticeable except to the closest and oldest of comrades, and groaned under his breath as the rising sun hit him in the eyes. Reborn regretted that pint of beer. He regretted the pints that followed. Most of all, he regretted that he had to teach today.

Groaning and muttering curses under his breath (Reborn delighted that here, no one knew Italian, so he was free to curse when and where he pleased), Reborn slunk through the Namimori junior high gates, discreetly making his way through the halls and sneaking past the teacher's lounge. As a Teaching Assistant (TA), Reborn was not required to be at staff meetings, but Mammon's target just might be grumpy enough to make him. Reborn twitched, darting through a thankfully darkened hall, and trying not to think about the annoying, grizzly old man. Reborn was certain the man had it out for him. He just didn't know why.

Reborn shrugged as he walked under a stairway, which had more of an arch to it than the front gates, and made him feel even smaller than usual. Annoyed, Reborn marched on, determined to think and not to feel. It didn't matter if the old man had it out for him; so long as his mission was fulfilled, nothing else mattered. Not even the target. Reborn's smile was smooth and full of knives when he walked into their empty classroom, an Italian greeting on his lips and a reply quickly following.

(Later, when an enraged and frustrated Skull came to Reborn to ask for tips on teaching kids Italian, their beloved mother tongue, Reborn kicked him out the door, annoyed the lackey could be so full of energy when Reborn was decidedly not. Also, don't mention brats around Reborn. They make him feel homicidal.)

O X O

Kawahira was in a deep trance. Around him, the walls wavered with the force of his Flames; sometimes they were black and burnt, or prim and proper, and sometimes a gay voice, full of cheer and goodwill, would float through, as if on a summer breeze. When he heard that voice, Kawahira would shudder violently and huddle into himself, as if fearing a mortal blow. But still, he concentrated. Not even the twisted memory of his best and truest love could keep him from his task. Kawahira focused, imagining himself to be a sliver on the face of a lake, a small piece of almost-nothing on something much larger than himself, and for a moment, he saw it. There, floating above the lake, surrounded by clouds of mist and color, was the Tri-Ni-Set.

And then Kawahira's concentration broke and he awoke, gasping, on his bed. His shoulders trembled and his fingers could barely clutch the quilt around them for warmth, as the universe punished Kawahira for playing God. But he couldn't help it. Even as the energy and warmth leeched from his skin and Kawahira almost lurched out of bed when he went to order some ramen (via telephone of course, Kawahira wasn't crazy – not in that way), he knew that he would try again. He could feel it in his bones, like a pest that had burrowed so deeply he could never live without it. He needed it, like a child needs love.

Kawahira sighed, and, looking down at his hands, considered both his hands and his latest attempt at knowing the world's secrets. His hands were white, without fat or muscle, and the nails were neatly trimmed. They reminded Kawahira of a little boy who, with his best friend, wanted to know the secrets of the universe. Quietly, Kawahira pulled the quilt over his fever-flushed face, and wondered, almost deliriously, if his best friend could see him now, in the eyes of his little friend, what would she say?

Kawahira closed his eyes in the darkened room, not knowing.

O X O

 **Explanations! Going from back to front, Kawahira, in my mind, needed a reason for being on Earth/in Namimori at all. So, having never gotten past the first few episodes of the anime, I gave him one. I think that it would make sense that Kawahira is power-hungry, greedy for knowledge, and yet denied totally and completely from what he wants. I am aware that, in canon, Kawahira controls the Tri-Ni-Set. In my story (since this is what this Kawahira wanted), Kawahira is more like a priest serving his god; hoping and praying to one day reach divinity, but not quite sure if waiting will serve his purposes. Kawahira is, at the heart of this all, a very ambitious and selfish person, ne? **

**I should also explain the reference to Sepira seeing through Takashi's eyes: in Hindu and Buddhist belief, those who die are reborn pretty much immediately into the next life. Time has no meaning for those reborn; you could meet the same person twice in the same lifetime (yours) and they would be in two different forms. Don't let those anime biases fool you; Japan is predominately Buddhist and Hindu (though that could change, seeing as a lot of temples are having difficulty sustaining themselves).**

 **This Reborn turned out a lot darker than I thought he was going to be. Honestly, I personally dislike but respect the guy, because while he's a great hitman, he really has no right to be near impressionably** **children** **(wonder what Haru'd say to that?), so I'm surprised this came out so dark. Huh. *shrugs* *decides to move on* Let's see if Takashi or Tsuna can change him, ne? Or maybe it's Kyouya-kun who'll do it…**

 **Also, I think that I'm going to end up writing a lot more now that the action's picked up. If you have any complaints, comments, or concerns, please put them below!**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	27. A Circle's Round

When he saw the pen flying at his face, Takashi's reaction was almost instinctive. Quick as a whip, he barreled Tsuna down to the ground, rolled, and, when they came up by the wall, popped up just long enough to grab Tsuna by the hand and sprint across the room. Er, well, they tried. Another kunai was on the way, sending Takashi into a duck that had stumbling, lurching, and ultimately poorly positioned for the next attack. Eyes wide, Takashi jumped up off the floor and knocked his friend over (Skull's shadowed lips smirked, pleased). Takashi winced at Tsuna's watery eyes (the floor was hard after all), but barely a heartbeat later they were rolling again, trying desperately to get away from the raining kunai. _'Skull's picture had been well-drawn,'_ was left unsaid.

The rolling stopped when a kunai landed with enough cloth caught to pin Takashi down (internally, he bemoaned the state of the cellar and his father's reaction), but that didn't stop Takashi. With his hands and feet, he threw Tsuna away from him, yanked hard enough to tear his PJs, and moved off.

They were next to the cellar door. With a quick glance and thought for Tsuna's stony visage, Takashi took Tsuna by the back and pushed him out. "I think you should go now," he whispered to Tsuna's stumbling, shocked visage, and closed the door. Takashi ducked and twisted as two more kunai landed near his head and shoulders, but spent the time he needed to lock the door. Then, dreading another hours-long session, Takashi turned to face his 'teacher.'

Skull smirked. "Run," he warned. The glint of something sharp was enough to get Takashi sprinting, and the sight of which had probably been intentional. Takashi scowled, annoyed at his weakness, as he tried to push aside his physical woes and focus his mind. A kunai over his head sent Takashi blank-minded and diving like a madman (or madboy), but with a twist and a couple steps, Takashi was back on his feet and eyes gleaming. He dodged the next two kunai with ease; for one he shifted like a breeze, and for the other, he crouched deeply.

As Takashi popped back up, ready for action and eyes still coolly calculating, Skull smiled. Their last session had bred this: Takashi's mindset had changed. He was thinking, not just reacting, and not just thinking, but planning. It may seem strange or unorthodox that a couple hours had yielded such a(n) (somewhat, Skull amended, as a near-blow almost took some skin off of Takashi's right leg) effective strategy, but Skull believed that it was merely a sigh of Takashi's advanced maturity, which was probably the reason for his Flames as well. As a teacher, he was pleased – they were making progress. But at the same time… with a peculiar glint in his eye, Skull upped the training intensity. Takashi barely dodged the opening attack. Skull frowned, considering.

The point was, after all, to bring Takashi's Flames out. Well, Skull acknowledged from the shadows, as Takashi yelped loudly and very nearly broke something with his floor-plant (three kunai had been aimed at his head; one, nearly unseen, had come up and nicked Takashi's side – clearly, the boy would be needing medical care at the end of all this), Takashi _could_ draw out his Flames; he'd done it with the wire after all. And the time after that, when Skull asked him to. But, Skull noticed, at this age, Takashi's Flames were tied more to his emotions than with his mind. Whether Takashi was feeling annoyed, confused, triumphant or discombobulated, his emotions brought his Flames to the surface. So, while it was true that a near-death experience would awaken Takashi's Flames like a mother awoke to her child's retching, it wasn't everything. Even getting Takashi intensely worked up or afraid would work, so long as the emotions were heart-felt. To that end, Skull had been tempted to add Tsuna to the mix, to see how Takashi reacted if his best friend was in danger, and, though it had been brief, Takashi's reaction had been splendid.

But when Tsuna was sent away, Skull did not force him back. Instead, he changed trajectory; he aimed at places Takashi was hypersensitive, giving the lad time to lock the door before he brought the game back to its usual fashion. Though not as spirited as before, Takashi's movements had been swift and sure – he moved the way he wanted to, and, to a certain extent, predicted Skull's moves. And therein lied the problem.

In order for this 'teaching' thing to work, Skull needed Takashi's trust. It was his reasoning for letting Tsuna go and changing the trajectory of a few kunai. But it was also hindering him; because Takashi trusted Skull, he trusted that the blows coming would be non-fatal. So, perhaps subconsciously, Takashi was only protecting the most painful, non-fatal parts of his body. When he moved, he did so slightly, as if the next kunai was coming from the exact same place as last time, as if his position was suited for all blows. And that would not do. Skull needed, in order to fully awaken Takashi's powers, to create a sense of urgency. Sure, Takashi was moving and thinking and planning, but he wasn't moving as fast as he could, as fast as he had with Tsuna. So, since Skull was loath to put Tsuna, a civilian, in danger, Skull upped the difficulty level.

Takashi was in for a world of hurt.

O X O

Tsuna stared at the heavy door, unblinking. Unmoving. He stared at the door without thoughts or feelings. In some place deep inside, someplace cold and reserved for car rides with bad thoughts, Tsu-kun understood. He understood this all, from Takashi's fears to Skull's calculating eyes and Tsuna's worries themselves. He understood that there was nothing they could do. Not as they were. So, with a gentle nudge, Tsu-kun pushed Tsuna away from the door, the house, from Takashi, and towards the junior high.

They had a doctor to see.

O X O

Sasagawa-sensei smiled softly. "Here you go," he told his ward, handing her a roll of fresh gauze. Wordlessly, she took it, thanked him, and turned on her heel. Sasagawa-sensei took no offense, and went back to his desk. He was simply glad to be of use.

With a tired sigh that sounded like a groan, Sasagawa-sensei sat down, picked up his pen, and began to fill out the some paperwork. Hibari-kun had been in a rather foul temper this morning, and as a result, a couple of the infirmary regulars had to be sent to the hospital. The paperwork was for why Sasagawa-sensei (who, as the school nurse and the nearest adult personal, had called 1-1-9) had needed an ambulance, and to document the students' injuries*.

Sasagawa-sensei stifled a laugh as he remembered the look on Hibari-kun's face when one of the EMS thought the blood on him was his, and tried to drag Hibari into the van. Sasagawa-sensei's shoulders started shaking and he barely repressed giggles as he remembered the poor EMS's reaction to Hibari's icy glare (that is to say, with a white face and quivering legs), and then _Hibari's_ reaction when the man's supervisor came and really did drag Hibari into the van was _priceless_. Sasagawa-sensei couldn't repress a loud snort the reminder; Hibari, usually so cool and composed, had had a cross between the stink eye and honest bewilderment on his pale face, which, by all accounts, was a sight to be seen. Sasagawa-sensei sighed in bemused pleasure at the memory of Hibari Kyouya being _cowed_ by a woman half his height and twice his strength. Well, in volume at least. Sasagawa-sensei sighed again, pleased. Life was golden, he decided, and was about to restart his work when,

"I didn't know you were going senile, old man," dropped in.

Heart pounding, Sasagawa-sensei spun around to face his red-headed sister, who appeared to have a small boy (Tsuna?) in one hand, and a thicket of shopping bags in the other. Sasagawa-sensei's eyes widened in surprise; as Kyoko smiled, Ryohei studied the large, robust-looking woman before him, and liked what he saw.

Ryohei smiled back. "I'm not old; I'm barely twenty-five!" Ryohei said, smiling widely as he walked across the space to hug his little sister. Ryohei grinned as he pulled back, the hug warm but brief (they had a lot to talk about), and declared, "Look at you! You've gotten so big!" Ryohei's smile widened at Kyoko's blush and consequent eye-lowering (it was a habit she'd never dropped), and his eyes softened as he took in the grown-up version of the little girl he used to take care of. Briefly, Ryohei wondered if she had forgotten him, but dismissed these thoughts for later.

Mindful of Tsuna's presence (for it was the little boy, albeit with a lot more creases on his face, _à cause_ to his ginormous frown/pout – clearly, he did not enjoy being off his own two feet), Sasagawa-sensei crouched down. He grinned at Tsuna, who was watching him warily ( _Too warily_ , Ryohei thought, his heart clenching painfully) and with annoyance, which Sasagawa-sensei was very used to.

"Looks like you've caught a great big fish," he told Kyoko, his tone light and full of teasing for the boy. "What do you think we should do with it?" Ryohei asked, a bright grin on his lips. Tsuna only scowled harder, but Kyoko smiled back.

"I don't know," Kyoko replied breathily, as if she was the mistress of a household and neither cared nor knew anything of fishing (Ryohei grinned – it was an old game between the two of them), but smiled when she said, "Perhaps we should have it for supper. Ne?" She teased, as she prodded Tsuna gently with her hip. Ryohei hid a snicker; though the frown remained, there was a light of interest in their play, and the wariness now seemed to stream from being 'eaten,' rather than whatever it was that was giving the lad such a hard time.

Ryohei smiled. Kyoko had probably noticed the boy loitering somewhere, seen the frown, and decided that she just didn't like it. She did things like that. It was one of her most prominent quirks, in addition to bringing all her problems to her dear older brother. Personally, Ryohei had no qualms about the situation, and with a laugh that sounded like a bear's roar, Ryohei swooped and grabbed and brought Tsuna flying through the air. Ryohei barely had time to smile and Tsuna barely had time to scream before they were seated, like most times, on one of the infirmary beds.

Tsuna had to blink multiple times to recover his wits, and then a couple more times to keep from crying. He disguised his trembling with Tsu-kun and a backwards leap towards the headboard. Tsu-kun glared and adopted a haughty look. "You may not eat me," he proclaimed, going along with the play for now, "For I am the king of the koi, and none shall eat me without Buddha's inference." So saying, Tsu-kun turned his nose up his audience. Silently, he hoped the ploy worked.

Sasagawa-sensei smiled ruthfully. "Of course your highness," he said dramatically, performing the tricky business of a _dogeza_ in sitting position, trying to hide the grin that danced on his lips. Still in dogeza, and unaware of how his toss had effected Tsuna, Ryohei asked, "May I then tend to your wounds? It is but a small price to pay for Nirvana."** Ryohei flickered his eyes upward, gauging Tsuna's reaction.

The sneer was well-rehearsed, but there was honest confusion in his eyes as Tsuna replied, "Then the road to Nirvana is long and weary intend, for you, mortal, for I have no injuries to speak of." Ryohei blinked, surprised, and, abandoning all play, straightened to look Tsuna in the eye.

Sasagawa-sensei frowned. "Then why are you here? It's not that I don't want you here," Sasagawa-sensei was quick to add, seeing a flash of, well, _something_ in Tsuna's eyes and not wanting to turn the boy away, but confusion and earnestness colored his tone when he explained, "Usually when you come here, it's either you or Takashi who's hurt. Of the two though," he added, feeling foolish for so many explanations, especially when Tsuna already knew these things and feeling like he was betraying the boys to his sister, which made him feel even more silly, "You're more likely to get hurt." Sasagawa-sensei paused expectantly, waiting to hear Tsuna's report.

Silence.

Sasagawa-sensei blinked, surprised, and studied his little 'friend' harder. The mulish frown/pout, which the Sasagawa's had recently wiped clean, had returned full force. It was full of anger and betrayal, or at least that's how it appeared to Sasagawa-sensei, and, at the very least, some self-doubt.

Quieter this time, Sasagawa-sensei asked, "What happened?" _'To Takashi,'_ or _'At home,_ ' Sasagawa-sensei wanted to add, but held his tongue in the hopes of more information. He certainly got a reaction: Tsuna's eyes flashed, and the frown got deeper, and the silence got heavier. Tsuna looked away and did not speak, not for many long moments.

Sasagawa-sensei was the first to turn away. He sighed as he asked Kyoko to go on home ahead of him, and dutifully handed her the keys to his home (hovel, more like, but Ryohei was leery of the details) before returning to his paperwork. If the boys were having a spat and needed time apart, well, Sasagawa-sensei was glad to be of use.

Silence.

 _…_ _Silence._

… It was good, Tsuna supposed, that he was used to quiet places and lots of brooding. He sighed and looked down at his hands. There were scratches there and on his knees, plus what felt like the beginnings of a bruise on his left elbow, but Tsuna didn't mind. He'd had worse. Memories flickered to life in Tsuna's mind, like pretty pictures drawn in marker and held before candle light, and Tsuna remembered. He put his hand on the bed below him, and remembered the first time he lay on this bed – after that horrible event with the tree ( _Trees?_ Tsuna couldn't remember), and Takashi falling and- and- Tsuna shut his eyes and breathed. In. Out. He was rattled, he could tell. This room had a lot of recent happy memories, but it was a place of pain. For tending to pain, yes, but the walls seemed tinged with memories of darker places. Painful places.

Tsuna's eyes opened, and he studied these walls. These quiet, encompassing, painfully white walls. As the morning sun broke through and into the infirmary, Tsuna ran his eyes over the nearest wall, which happened to be the one with the windows. Tsuna winced at the bright sunlight, blinking red and green spots out of his eyes, and tried to study the walls more. It was helping, somewhat, and Tsuna always found that focusing on something els-

Tsuna's eyes narrowed. There was something on the window sill. It was red, that much Tsuna could tell, but he needed to get closer to tell what it was. Intrigued (mysteries were one of Tsuna's weak stops – that, and Takashi), Tsuna got out of bed and wandered over to the sill.

He blinked.

Slowly, Tsuna raised a trembling hand to touch the red bandana resting on the window sill. A wind ruffled the excess cloth like a loving father, but it was the mother of all headaches that had Tsuna's attention. It was beating like a drum inside his head, getting louder and louder until it seemed to vibrate the cloth of reality. Tsuna frowned, trying to think around the mind-killing migraine, but the walls were closing in on him, the bandana was waving at him, taunting him… what about this?

 _Red…_

— "Tsuna!" Someone distantly called, their voice tinged and overlapped with someone else's, someone much closer—

 _…_ _Blood?_

Tsuna crumpled like a leaf.

O X O

Satoshi was staring listlessly out the window, silently bemoaning his hangover and life at large, when the private came running in. "Sir!" the lad yelled, seemingly at the top of his lungs, and would've continued further had Satoshi not stopped him dead in his tracks.

Dark clouds hung from his eyes and seem to gather at his shoulders as Satoshi growled, "What?" quite pointedly. To his credit, the young lad quivered, but held firm. Indeed, he saluted! Satoshi stared at this marvelous creature, wondering from which hellspawn he had sprung from, and furthermore, why he was bothering him on this oh-so-lovely day?

Glare firmly in place, Satoshi gestured for the lad to report. "Sir!" the private shouted, and, ignoring his superior's wince, continued, "There appears to have been a Code Falling Leaf near the summer festival last night. We're checking into it," the private quickly added, his wide eyes studying Satoshi's standing (and taunt) form with trepidation, "Even the senior superintendent*** is on the scene. At the moment," the young lad paused to wet his lips, glancing nervously to the side as if worried that he needed an escape route, "There are one, possibly two kidnappés, and it looks like one of them was your friend." The private paused, dissuaded by the superintendent supervisor's grey visage, but he plunged on, regardless. Truly, a man of steel.

"One of the men who have been kidnapped recently came to your house, sir," the private tacked on quickly, unwilling to bear the brunt of the superintendent supervisor's legendary fury (fear for a friend, as the detective well knew, could make even the most reasonable of man irrational), and, when it was apparent that Satoshi had no idea who that was – honestly, the number of people who came to Satoshi's house calling far exceeded the national average – continued, "I believe his name was Yamamoto Tsuyoshi?" The lad trailed off, uncertain.

Satoshi, for his part, considered the whole thing a waste of energy (and time, time which Satoshi could've spent brooding), and was trying to convey that through looks alone. If the shaking, sweating, but undoubtedly still there, detective's presence was anything to go by, Satoshi's glare needed work.

He sighed and was about to dismiss the lad when Satoshi's wife burst in. The room paused to admire her beauty – Marie was a creature of rare beauty, something that created softness in Satoshi and hardness in men like the young detective, hardness that Satoshi's glare warned the boy to be wary of. All were shocked to see crystal-clear tears slip down Marie's cheeks, and stunned to see Satoshi hurry to comfort her.

"My love, my love, whatever is the matter?" Satoshi whispered, trying to take his wife into his arms to comfort her, but she wouldn't have it.

"Tsuyoshi!" she cried, bringing the room to a crashing standstill, and bringing a stout frown to Satoshi's face as she gazed up at him, her eyes wet and beseeching. "I know that I have promised not to go to that man, but surely, you could spare him a man or two?" Twin tears fell as Marie squeezed her eyes shut, her tortured heart on display for everyone to see. Unconsciously, the men of the room condemned Satoshi, while the women cooed and tutted in their hearts, unwilling to fight this battle but happy to see a love story playing out.

Aware of the tension and his slowly crushing heart – Satoshi thought of soda cans being crushed for recycling, and thought it an adequate metaphor – Satoshi considered his options. The room was tense and silent as Satoshi considered his thoughts, weighing his choices and the consequences of each. Finally, Satoshi's eyes flickered towards his wife.

He sighed quietly, breaking the ice with a simple, "Alright."

The room at large grinned while Marie beamed. She leaned forward to kiss him lovingly, bringing wolf-whistles, smiles, and blushes all around. "Thank you," Marie told her husband quietly, and then smiled mischievously as she dragged him out of his stuffy office and off to the crime scene. They had a man to find, and they would not stop to rest, eat, or drink until he was found.

Well, Marie would at least.

O X O

 ***1-1-9 is the Japanese emergency line, much like 9-1-1 for all you Americans out there. Also, I don't know this for certain, but I figured there'd have to be** **some** **paperwork involved in ambulance work, because even a regular hospital requires oodles and oodles of forms and signatures. Why should an ambulance be any different?**

 ****In Buddhist/Hindu belief, Nirvana, the highest heaven, is achieved after many lifetimes of good deeds and services. In general, it's a very long road. A very, very long road.**

 *****I will put up the full Japanese police hierarchy system on my portfolio, but please give me some time to myself first. Ah, and I added the private/detective, even though my sources were conflicted on whether or not they exist…**

 **X It's eleven o'clock at night, I just finished my last show (five and a half hours of dancing. Pity me), but I wanted to get this piece out. Love y'all. Have a nice night.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	28. It Has No End

The detective sighed dejectedly as the two lovebirds swept out of the room, hand in hand. A fellow officer grinned at the private, shook his head at the boy's sheepish grin, and gently ushering the small man out of their room. There were, after all, many open cases lying about, and not only would it be unprofessional for the private to see them, but the officer would probably get fired too. And that would simply not do.

With a quiet apology and a louder click, the officer shut the office door. The private was alone. The walls seemed to stretch and stand tall before his very eyes, and the silence was somewhat terrifying. Having a mild fear of enclosed spaces, the intimidated detective scuttled off. He walked swiftly and silently down the hall, turned a corner, walked some more, and was just about to turn another corner, when something fell against his legs;

"Umph!" the detective froze. He looked down at his feet, which were now covered in warmth and a small body, to find glistening tears and a pudgy little face.

"Ah… !" The detective quickly bent over and scouted back, his hand diving for a hanky as he asked, "Are you alright?" to the child he had apparently run into.

To his alarm, glistening tears became fat globs of water and the boy's face quivered with sobs. But before the detective could ask what was the matter, the little boy wailed, "Kyou-kun's not h-here!" and then proceeded to bawl. The detective's hands shot out and he flailed frantically, his every touch seeming to incite more tears, more cries, and the poor man was simply overwhelmed.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the wails of a child are rarely unheard, and Hibari-kantokukantoku* was still in the building. He heard the small boy's cries, took his wife by the arm, and pulled her off to investigate. She, upon hearing the boy's cries, did not protest, but gasped in surprise when they rounded the corner to find Kusa-chan bawling on the floor, an unfamiliar man standing… _too_ close for comfort.

Quick as a whip, Marie's foot snapped out and attacked the strange man, hitting his head and sending him flying into the opposite wall. Kusa-chan, mercifully, was shocked silent. He stared, half terrified, half wondrous, as Marie crouched down to smile at him. Not a hair on her finely-brushed head was touched. "Hello dear," she cooed, taking a hanky from her purse and using it to dab snot and tears from Kusa's pudgy face, unminding of the way he shivered and shook. When she was finished, Marie smiled at Kusakabe and tucked her handkerchief away.

"Now, dear," Marie spoke clearly, sweetly, and with an unexpected bite, "What are you doing here?" Marie smiled wide, the edges a little crueler and colder than before when she added, "If you come here, Kyou-chan can't protect you, ne?" To her surprise, these words sent Kusakabe right back into a tantrum. He cried and wailed and would've screamed, had it not been for Satoshi's fist.

 _Wham._ Kusakabe stared up in shock, one hand on his cheek, the other on the floor.

Satoshi glared at the boy, his headache pounding, and his aura flickering dangerously as he hissed, " ** _No more crying._** " Kusa-chan, wide-eyed, nodded silently. "Good." Satoshi sighed, relaxing his posture and allowing himself to slump to Kusakabe's level. "Now," he asked –demanded, more like- "Where has Kyouya gone? I imagine it was his turn to babysit you," Satoshi smiled humorously, "Not mine."

In a now re-occurring theme, Kusakabe's eyes filled with tears as he attempted to convey the source of his problem. "K-k-kyou," Kuskabe finally choked out, intimidated and terrified by Satoshi's irritated glare, "K-kyou-chan h-h-hasn't-t b-been i-i-in," Kusa-chan whispered, barely heard by Marie and the whimpering detective ( _he_ was trying not to pass out or piss his pants), but broadcasted loud and clear to Satoshi.

A beat. A sniffle. A groan (courtesy of the detective).

Satoshi snorted. "So?" he drawled, characteristically dismissive, and, while Marie's reaction was smaller, in line with his wife. Kusa-chan, seeing the tight lines around his aunt's face and the blatant dislike in his uncle's, very nearly started to bawl. Only the increasingly deep stress lines in Hibari-oji-sama's forehead and the still potent glare gave Kusa pause, but that was for his voice, not with his tears. Big, fat globs of iridescent grey fell down fat-laden cheeks, even as Kusa-chan tried to stop them. Under his uncle's imposing glare and increasing tension, Kusa-chan tried to sniffle and hiccup his tears back, but, like drips from a faucet, they fell, one by one.

The detective, even with his waning strength and faith in the Hibari name, could do little but jump in front of the small boy, his face stretched taunt and his back daringly to his oppressors. The man smiled. "Hey," he said, his tone light and sweet, like caramel toffee on a bad day, "Do you want to hear a joke?" Kusa-chan, his eyes wet, shook his head. The detective's smiled twitched, but he continued, "Well, I want to hear a joke, so listen well while I tell to you, okay?" Obediently, Kusa-chan nodded, his cheeks still wet, but eyes curious.

A sigh. "We don't have time for this," Hibari-kantokukantoku grumbled. From the sounds of swishing cloth and quiet clack of plastic, it sounded like he was getting up. Marie, too.

The detective smiled at the boy. "Once," he recited, "There were thr-" The detective was cut off by a kick to his back, courtesy of Satoshi, a kick that almost sent him sprawling. Instead, it sent him stumbling. The detective was now much closer to Kusakabe than he had a need to be. But still, he continued.

With a pained grunt, the man continued, "Th-th-thre _e_ brothers. One of them-" another grunt, another kick, "Had a basketball. The second one-" another grunt, another kick, this time more vicious than before, "H-had a b-b-basebal-" another kick to spine sends the man down to the ground, but still he keeps reciting, "A-a baseball, and the thir-" A third kick. Or was it the fourth? Anyway, it was painful, and the detective was mildly glad he was between those monsters and this child. The child couldn't take it. But the man could.

The private started to tell some more of the joke, but with one quick bash on the head, he was finished.

Silence.

… Dead silence.

Flicking blood from the bottom of his shoe, Satoshi sighed and offered his hand to Marie, who was flicking blood from her nails and trying to drag out her hanky so she could clean up. "Shall we, my dear?" Satoshi asked, his voice deep with suggestion.

Marie looked up and smiled, one hand still tucked into her purse. "I'd love to!" She chirped, standing enthusiastically and taking one of Satoshi's hands to drag him away, from one crime to another.

Satoshi stopped her. "You have, uh," Satoshi gestured awkwardly to Marie's face, clearing his throat even more awkwardly, "Uh, something… there." Satoshi pointed to a speck of blood on Marie's face. She blinked at him, uncomprehending. Satoshi sighed. "Here, let me get it for you," he grumbled, and wiped the fleck off with his thumb.

Marie smiled warmly at him, their hands clasped tightly between the two of them. "Better?" she asked, a slightly hysterically note to her girly giggle.

Satoshi smiled awkwardly and began to step forward. "Better," he agreed, and ignored, with pointedly embarrassment, Marie's coos and giggles about her 'hero.' The two moved off, ready to see the scene of the kidnapping.

Back at the scene of the murder, buried under a wall of flesh and staring fixedly at the lolling, half-detached tongue above him, Kusakabe silently began to cry. He wanted his Kyou-chan. He wanted to go home. He didn't want to be under the dead stranger. What did he ever do wrong? Kusakabe continued to cry, occasional hiccups shaking his figure, his thoughts becoming increasingly darker and darker, while he waited for sleep to claim him.

Five minutes later, Kusakabe was, thankfully, unconscious.

O X O

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. With decreasing regularity and increasing raggedness, Takashi took stock of the room, his breath fanning out like a fog before him. About an hour ago, or at least what felt like an hour ago, Skull knocked out the heating. Takashi was certain the man was out to get him, if only through frostbite. Takashi's small body shivered discreetly in the low light.

There was a flicker of movement and then Takahsi threw himself from his previous position, slamming into the opposite wall before falling to the floor in a tightly-coiled ball and rolling for it was worth. Across the floor, through the Flame-scorched ditches, and into the next corner before Takashi popped back up. He crouched, in a deep squat, as his eyes flickered tiredly around the room, his back aching but still sensing for threats behind.

There was a flicker of movement and Takashi flinched and he wasn't going to make it-

"I think that's enough," Skull said quietly, silently relieved to watch Takashi slump his posture. The boy slumped and almost fell, but Skull caught him and held him. Takashi's limp legs dragged on the ground, the remains of his PJs stuck fast to various cuts and wounds, as he blinked tiredly up at his teacher. His lips moved, as if he was trying to ask a question, or make some witty comeback.

Skull smiled sadly. He rested a tiny hand on Takashi's head as he whispered, "Sleep." Takashi's neck bent sideways into the touch, his eyes closed in bliss, and within seconds, he was out like a light. His full weight caused Skull to stumble a bit, but a quick Flame zap (Skull winced when Takashi jolted, and would have woke if not for the petting Skull started to do) and re-balancing had the two ready to go. Skull grumbled a bit as he repositioned Takashi's weight to his aching back (an hour and a half in, Takashi started sending back the kunai Skull was throwing – it made for a proud teacher, but a bad back), but managed, and, with a heavy heart, set off for the nearest hospital and/or clinic. Skull didn't care which, so long as it didn't have Flames.

Skull sighed and shifted Takashi higher on his back. His thoughts and heart went to the boy. Never, in all the years Skull had lived, had he met someone who was so _sensitive_ to Flames. It was like there was a bubble of Flames around Takashi, and everything within a three foot radius was fair game. It was amazing. It was astounding. And, perhaps most tellingly, it was terrifying. Briefly, Skull worried. He worried about how Takashi's mind managed to process all of this, this sensory influx, how it had been caused, and sent a small prayer to a god he didn't believe in, that Takashi, dear sweet Takashi, never felt the loss of one's Flames.

As he hoisted Takashi higher up on his back, Skull couldn't help but feel that feeling the death of a man or woman's Flames would the mean of Takashi's own. _That_ was how closely connected to his Flames Takashi was – to put this in perspective, consider the average human. This person will have some Flames, not a whole lot, but, given time and patience, could access them. Most people never reached this point. Doing so required intense self-discipline, a deep self-understanding, and an awareness of the world at large in their hearts and in their minds. They needed to look at evil, and see good, and to look at good, and see evil. It was a fundamental skill, one that many people did not achieve until their winter years, if at all.

Perhaps one in a thousand people could be considered 'gifted' enough to access any level of their Flame, while a shocking one in ten million could access their Flames before the age of fifty. Having met Reborn, Skull could honestly say that those types of people were terrifying, and usually had good reason for it. Flames were, at the heart of it, a method of self-protection. Flame 'geniuses', people who could sense and understand their Flames early on in life, often went through great trials in life, and struggled to connect with the average person, who, likewise, struggled to understand them. It was a vicious cycle, one almost as horrendous as the Black Death or 9/11. Pain, any kind of pain, is worse alone.

Skull shut his mind to these thoughts. Images, memories of people who he'd failed, people Reborn had forced, through multiple attempts on their lives, to access their Flames, flickered behind closed eyelids. But Skull gently pushed them away. At his center, his Flames burned bright and strong, and his determination strengthened. Skull opened his eyes, just in time to dodge a telephone pole. No matter what the statistics were, or how terrified of and for Skull might be or become, Skull was going to do right by the little boy on his back.

Because it felt right, and Skull would do anything to be 'right' in his life for once.

O X O

Lal was annoyed. Beyond annoyed. She had to pee, she hadn't eaten in over forty-eight hours, and the target's mother _never freaking left the kitchen_. Lal's daring escape (preferably to the bathroom), was still waiting on pins and needles. Much like Lal was, only there was something much nastier on the floor of her chamber.

At the very least, Red wasn't bothering her. No, Lal was free to gaze out her tiny pinprick of a spyglass, watching and waiting and really, really bored. And angsty. And hungry. And tired. And she really, really needed to use the bathroom.

 _'Admit it,'_ Red muttered, _'You miss me.'_ Lal jumped, though she would die to her dying breath, and bit back a retort. The last thing she needed was _more_ of Nana's attention, plus a confirmation that she really was crazy. Well, Lal amended, she was already aware that she was crazy, had had her freakout, and was now just trying to keep anyone else from finding out. Reborn might not care at all, or he might force Lal to return to a life of signing paperwork for him in a secret underground location. Creepy bastard. Both Lal and Red agreed that the sideburns were _not_ attractive. Not unless you liked saliva and sweat and everything else you mixed into your hair.

Lal and Red shuddered uncomfortably in unison, before determinedly focusing back on the peephole. Lal could've cheered – the nanny was gone! But, unwilling to draw attention to herself, Lal bit her tongue. Ignoring her alter ego (who sighing dreamily and mumbling about how nice pain was – literally, what did Lal do to deserve such an undeserving friend?), Lal stuck her tongue out one corner of her mouth, and focused on delicately taking the door off. Mercifully, Red was silent.

After a few tense moments, the door silently fell open, and Lal felt like cheering all over again. But she stifled it, still unwanting of unnecessary attention, and, with a quick, guarded glance, took off from the Bomb of Doom. Eheh. Lal tried not to snort. She made a funny. A really good funny. In their combined mental space, Red banged their head on a nearby wall. Lal, as thickheaded as ever, didn't notice.

Lal was still preening about her joke when Red violently yanked their balance out of her control, sending them careening into a telephone pole. _" Ow,"_ they both groaned, putting their hands to their forehead and rubbing. Mercifully, the pole was made of iron, not steel, and had thusly suffered more damage than Lal herself. Lal frowned and kicked the offending thing, while Red sighed and grumbled half-hearted insults under their breath. Lal delicately ignored her alto ego's foul language.

A drop of something landed on the ground in front of her, and Lal blinked, surprised. Then she frowned, and looked closer. That was a very distinct shade of red… Lal crouched down, took a dab of the stuff on her finger, and stuck it in her mouth. She instantly grimaced and spat out the offending liquid. "Definitely not Kool-Aide," she muttered, and then looked around for a good way up. Seeing nothing, Lal sighed and looked back down. She blinked, somewhat stupidly, and would've hit herself if there wasn't still some blood left on her hand.

Lip curled in disgust, Lal quickly wiped the offending liquid on a nearby rock before scrabbling forward towards the telephone pole. With a heave and a groan and a grunt, Lal got the pole back up. With a huge sigh (there was still some yucky left on her hands and Lal was more keen on a bath than climbing), Lal scurried up the pole, looked down, and then had to look away before she vomited.

Ignoring the (very, very) far ground, Lal bunched up her hind-legs, aimed, and shot off like a bullet. While flying through the air, she (and Red) were tempted to whoop, but the lack of air cut that dream short ( **A/N: Thankfully. *suavely dodges human cannonball* *calmly starts running as Team Red tries to kill me* Literally, just why?** ). Lal squinted at her target, shifted a bit, and got ready for landing.

 _Whiiiiiie… BOOM!_ "Umph!" Skull grunted, loudly, as he took the force of Lal's throw and almost stumbled off a roof into the garbage below. It didn't help that Lal was leaning backwards. It almost like she wanted them to tip… but luckily, Skull managed to hop forward, protecting all three passengers, though Takashi might've suffered a little from the extra bounce. Speaking of which…

Skull spun around tightly and quickly, knocking Lal off her perch and jostling Takashi slightly. The little boy didn't wake, and if there wasn't a member of the Acrobaleno present and patches in his memory, Skull probably would've attempted First Aid. But, the situation being as it was, Skull just glared. He discreetly tried to make Takashi more comfortable – plus ready to run – as Skull asked, "What are you doing here?" to Lal.

In response, Lal pouted. She wanted to glare and be haughty and sit on Skull some more, but the blood from earlier was making her lightheaded, plus she was deprived of many things, including chili and a normal bathroom. Red's commentary wasn't helping. _Oh shut up_ , Red grumbled, pausing in her rant about proper etiquette and dedication to royalty.

Lal gently pushed her alto ego away as she told Skull, a frown on her face, "I was heading back to the base. What are you doing here?" Lal asked, leery of revealing that, well, she (and Red) just realized that they had no idea where their target was. And, well, maybe Reborn would know? Lal doubted it, but if anyone would know, Reborn would. Mammon had been entirely too disgusted by this town to even consider information –digging. Not to mention, that was just in the _beginning_ , and Mammon was babysitting Mukuro now.

Lal sighed tiredly to herself, shaking her head at such an irresponsible adult (not to mention trouble-maker for her), and blinked, surprised to notice that Skull had been talking for the last five minutes. So she smiled like she always did – half sheepish, half intimidating – as she interrupted with, "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. Could you say that again?" Lal's smile got wider as Skull stopped to glare balefully at her, before dutifully repeating. Ah, the joys of peasants bowing to royalty…

"… need to take him to hospital," Skull was saying, and Lal quickly nodded, not wanting to caught unobservant two times in a row. From Skull's annoyed glare, he'd already caught on to the fact, but spitefully withheld information.

Lal pouted, but didn't comment. Instead she said, "Whelp. Have fun," and turned around to go. There was a low moan behind her, and a quiet sigh besides, but Lal made good on her implied meaning, and was across half a dozen rooftops before the thought,

 _'It's not like we're friends or anything,'_

crossed her mind.

O X O

 ***Hibari Satoshi's title is 'superintendent supervisor' in English, which translates to 'kantokukantoku' in Japanese. I tried to find the honorific for his station, but strangely could not find it? I'm sorry, I just finished reading _IraqiGirl_ , and now my head's messed up. Reason for bad chapter perhaps? Ner. Perhaps I'm just too tired. X Next chapter will be better. I hope. I hope I sleep tonight.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	29. That's How Long

The darkness ebbed and flowed like a drowsy creek, filled with _something_ , but which is invisible to eye. It was dark, and dark all around, but even as Tsuna squinted, he knew what he was looking for wouldn't be seen. It would be felt.

And to be honest, Tsuna was feeling kind of annoyed. He _certainly_ didn't remember this place, but this place seemed to remember him. It called to him soothingly, like a mother calms a child, and Tsuna was terrified to note a resounding cry not just within himself, but in the air around him.

It was a silent scream, but the pain was enough to make Tsuna jerk.

Ears ringing, Tsuna turned towards the 'sound,' wincing as he did so; his ears felt full of splinters, and his head wasn't much better. He was disheartened by the darkness that did not cast itself away, and annoyed by the pain in his head. It felt like someone had pounded a nail into Tsuna's head with a hammer, and was now trying to pull it back out, using the other side of the blade. In other words: _OUCH_ _._

Tsuna frowned as the darkness seemed to chuckle at him, even – perhaps not so humorously - darkly. It disoriented Tsuna, and had it not been for building headache currently pounding in his head, he probably would've run. Where, he didn't know, but now, here, the pain in his head was building, building and building, like a waterfall simmering angrily behind a damn and waiting for its chance…

Tsuna blinked, and everything shattered.

There was another silent scream, one Tsuna could recognize as his own, as he fell, cleaved in two, twin tears falling down twin faces. Silence. They were both blinking white spots and salty tears from their eyes when they noticed – lo and behold!- that neither of them was alone. They stared at each other, still in unison, and mutually silenced by the tears falling down the one's face. They were like angels falling: something rare and unappreciated.

Perhaps the two boys would have remained in unison, if not for the tears. One of them reached up and, with the back of his hand, dashed his tears to the side. The other smiled and waited for his tears to collect under his chin before discreetly wiping them off on his sleeve. They both stared at each other, still puzzled and lost and not a little confused, but with the darkness as a background, they found peace.

A beat.

One of them smiled. "Hello," he said softly, tenderly, "I've wanted to meet you for a very long time."

The other boy blushed. "Er, well," he blushed deeper, mumbling, "I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host."

The first boy laughed, surprisingly them both. It was warm and genuine, if a bit conceited. The boy grinned again. "Hey," he whispered, as if caught in a great secret, "Do you know where we are?" The second boy blinked and shook his head hesitantly, a little afraid of being made fun of. But the other boy smiled kindly, setting that fear at ease, and with a twinkle in his eye, he asked, "Wanna explore?"

Tsuna smiled back. "Yes," he said, and took the hand proffered. Tsu-kun giggled and gently dragged the boy to his feet, smiling but not commenting when Tsuna stumbled. He simply help him out, and then wandered off, his hand slightly clammy in Tsuna's.

Tsuna hurried after him, this boy that looked and acted just as he himself wanted to, but could find nothing to say. He wanted to say something - preferably clever and/or funny – but as it often was for Tsuna, the words would not come. He tried, he really did – he wracked his brain like a thief in a bookstore, but could not find any words. His lips were sealed together, and Tsuna could say nothing, not even if it was his dearest wish. Unconsciously, his grip on Tsu-kun tightened.

Tsu-kun squeezed back. Tsuna's eyes widened and shot to Tsu-kun's face, which was turned towards him with a such warm, kind, sweet, and loving smile, it caught Tsuna's breath and stole it away. Tsuna couldn't breathe. He wanted to, to say something, but all that came was the parted lips one uses to express speechless surprise.

Tsu-kun's smile shifted, bringing mischief to his eyes as he chuckled. "Don't worry," he whispered, leaning forward to push his lips against Tsuna's, "I'm right here for you." Still smiling, Tsu-kun turned and gently pulled his other half down the path. The darkness laughed to see her child's gleeful smile and furious blush, but kindly hid the two from sight. She glanced at you, and hid from you as well.

O X O

Hibari was bored. He was more than bored; he was irritated. And he was more than irritated, he was _supremely_ irritated. His breath came out in a hot huff through his nose as glared across the room, taking in the white and black walls, but not really seeing them. Wisely, the nurse at the door decided to knock before she came in.

 _Dnock._ Hibari's head twirled around and he _glared_ at the nurse, supremely irritated and not at all in the mood to deal with this shizzle. He repressed the urge to giggle hysterically; the yankee* in him was crying tears of blood at being reduced to the word 'shizzle.' Also, the fact that he was in a hospital _without_ any injuries to speak of, which was really doing damage to the hospital's-

The nurse was speaking.

Hibari blinked and shifted gears, cursing his inability to inner monologue, and kind of wishing something interesting would happen. "… Sasagawa-sensei," the nurse finished, and Hibari blinked, the entire conversation having flown over his head. He considered asking for the nurse to repeat herself, but then Hibari decided that he was Supremely Irritated, and Sasagawa-sensei was probably here for the exact reason why Hibari wasn't: entertainment.

Therefore, Hibari's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling when Sasagawa-sensei stumbled into his room, pale and gaunt and grey. Hibari half-rose off the bed and was glancing about for a chair (clearly, Sasagawa-sensei needed it), but then Sasagawa-sensei half-held his hands in placation, and collapsed onto the chair Hibari quite neatly missed in his surveillance of the room. Hibari sat down, feeling quite foolish, and picked at a fold in his (hospital-issued – god, were they awful) pants while he waited politely for Sasagawa-sensei to recover.

He was not disappointed. Sasagawa-sensei took a deep breath in, let it out, and then muttered with a sigh, "One sec," as he dug out his phone. Hibari waited patiently for the loud key sounds to die down, and very nearly asked what was going on, before seeing Sasagawa-sensei's tired look, and deciding to keep his mouth shut.

Silence descended.

Hibari, fearing impoliteness, let his gaze drift off**, and contemplated the floor beneath Sasagawa-sensei's shoes. The floor was white and black plastic, like much of the room, and it was actually rather boring. Hibari sighed, and was about to turn over and perhaps get some shut-eye, when he noticed Sasagawa-sensei's shoes. Significantly, his lack thereof. Hibari had to repress a snicker at the sight of Sasagawa-sensei's fluffy school slippers, complete with white fluffy unicorns and tiny rainbows, against the dreary hospital backdrop.

Hibari smiled, pleased, and was about to _really_ turn over and get some sleep (if Sasagawa-sensei's appearance was anything to go by, they clearly were not leaving for a good long while, or at least not until whatever idiot in the ER woke up) when Sasagawa-sensei asked quietly, "What are you smiling about?" Hibari's eyes flickered up, saw stormy grey eyes, and looked down. He smiled, and nodded to the slippers. Hibari could practically _feel_ the moment confusion turned to embarrassment, and grinned like the Chesire Cat as Sasagawa-sensei swore quietly under his breath, worried to death about his 'patient' (Hibari was assuming here) and the health of his slippers.

Hibari couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. He howled like a dog with his head thrown back, falling against the bed and tummy jiggling with the force of his cackles. Out of the corner of one eye, Hibari could spot a rosy blush and a sheepish grin, one that he returned with much more vigor. A few more chuckles rippled through Hibari's shoulders, chuckles Sasagawa-sensei half-heartedly echoed, before dark eyes blinked, and the mood shifted.

"How bad is it?" Hibari asked, his dark eyes serious as they bore holes into the teacher next to him***.

Sasagawa-sensei looked confused for second, irritating Hibari, before the metaphorical lightbulb went off. "Oh!" Sasagawa-sensei uttered, his counterance surprised, and then sheepish. Hibari's eyebrow twitched as Sasagawa-sensei laughed. "Sorry," the elder apologized half-heartedly, "I forgot to check." A muscle spasmed under Hibari's eye, but he resigned himself to the fact that (maybe, probably) Sasagawa-sensei had tried.

Hibari turned over onto his side, and tried not to picture how rabid his fangirls and fanboys were for news of the great and powerful 'Hibari-sama.' Hibari shuddered, and sent off a quiet prayer that no one else learned of his hospital stay. He hoped to god everyone thought he was just skipping.

(Unfortunately, God is cruel, and decided not to listen to Hibari-kun's pleas. He sent me instead. *evil cackling*)

O X O

Lal frowned as she dodged expertly through the crowd, threading through the tiny nooks and crannies most people didn't even see, let alone use. But Lal noticed, and she needed them, so she used them. _Flint, flicker._ Lal ducked through the last pair of grey-blue trousers before she paused, sucked in a breath, and righted her costume. At Red's insistence, Lal was decked out in the same audacious costume as the other kindergarteners**** just down the street, and, with a quick breath to gather her courage, ready for action.

Lal started to cry. Bawl, more like. Internally, she was mortified, and hiding behind a smirking Red, but she continued the ploy, pretending it wasn't her eyes that those awful tears were falling from, or her mouth from whence those god-awful screams came. Lal continued to bawl and scream, even as a small crowd gathered around her – anxious parents terrified of her screams, worried about her health, and glancing about every which way for her parents. Red's smirk grew wider; generally speaking, the Japanese were too conservative/timid to help others.

This was just another example of such.

The crowd continued to shift restlessly and glance about themselves as Lal yowled for the world to hear, until finally an old man came and parted the crowd. With her eyes half-squinted and watery with tears, Lal considered the man. He was old and grey and not the least bit pleasant to look at – particularly not with the scowl set in place! Lal frowned, and was about to yowl louder, when the old man hit her on the top of the head. Her teeth clacked together harshly as the old man yelled, "Quit your whining!" before prompting grabbing the young (in appearance) girl's arm and dragging her off into the junior high, grumbling all the way.

Behind inflamed skin and dragging heels, Lal smiled. She was in.

They wandered about for a while, or at least, that's how it seemed to Lal. The old man never said a word, and the scowl on his face never lessened. After a few minutes, Lal could not reasonably keep up the pretense of shock, and started to wail again. To her relief, the old man sent her a glare sharp enough to make most kids shut up. Obediently, Lal's mouth clicked shut, and her poor throat was saved.

They continued down white-washed halls, now completely silent. Lal waited for them to reach their destination; A left turn there. A few flights of stairs. A right turn here. Before long, Lal's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she was about to start yowling again when they reached their destination – the infirmary. Goodness knew (though Red shuddered to be compared to 'goodness'), adults always seemed to be taking crying kids to the infirmary, as if hoping for some miracle potion to take away all the grievances of childhood. Lal had originally intended to sneak away behind the nurse's back to find her target, but was surprised to find her 'friend' already there.

Lal quickly changed tactics: "Reborn-onii-chan!" she squealed loudly, wrenching herself from the old man and launching herself at Reborn in one fell swoop. Reborn was not amused, but he _was_ kind enough not to let Lal crash into the wall behind him. Lal grinned at him from underneath her upturned skirt.****

Reborn sighed and tapped his knee quietly – a sign of stress and annoyance Lal knew well from years of Skull's shenanigans – as he asked, almost in a whisper, "What do you want?"

Lal grinned wider, if at all possible. She was the picture of childish cheer as she proclaimed, "Tsu-nii got away from me! I need to find him! Could you help me find him? Pretty please with a cherry and chocolate sprinkles on top?" Lal hastened to add, her demeanor urgent and seemingly concerned simply about her playmate. Her eyes, however, twinkled merrily at Reborn as he sighed, somewhat exasperated.

"Tsu-nii got hurt," he explained, as if an adult speaking in small words to a small child, "He had to go to the big white building over there." Cleverly, Reborn pointedly out the building, knowing that Lal was terrible with directions and would need a path as straight as an arrow to actually _find_ her target. Eyes sparkling with thanks, Lal grinned at Reborn, made her (painfully high-pitched) excuses, and bolted out of the room.

A beat.

Then, "Tsu-nii?" Gokudera-sensei asked, one eyebrow questioning his 'colleague.'

Reborn sighed, and wished he had a cup of tea (if only for his headache, which was his reason for being in the infirmary at this time) as he told his 'colleague,' "Sawada Tsunayoshi-kun. You don't know him." Reborn, blinked, surprised, as Gokudera-sensei turned white as a sheet, froze on the spot for couple heartfelt moments, and then fled the way he came.

Reborn blinked. _'Or maybe he did,'_ he mused, wondering over how low-class his information network had become. The master assassin sighed and gratefully accepted the nurse's aspirin. The brat didn't even have the nerve to show up!

O X O

 ***Yankees are, for some peculiar reason, 'delinquents' in Japan. Anyone else sensing some anti-American sentiment? 'Cause it's well deserved.**

 ****In Japan, it is impolite to stare at someone. They will perceive you as trying to intimidate them. I have a couple theories why, but no concrete evidence.**

 *****I included this note because Japanese hospital rooms are _tiny_ , and this was a good way to let y'all know.**

 ******For those of who have not played and/or seen a Japanese kindergartener, they look like this:**

 *******Ever seen those ninja games where the ninja does a barrel roll in the air between each obstacle? That's how I pictured Lal flying. I just didn't have time to write it in.**

 ***gets down on hands and knees* I am so sorry for the poor chapter! I have a con and midquarters going on, plus a bunch of people have been talking to me about job opportunities/things that they want me to get done for them, so I'm honestly kind of startled I got this this all done.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	30. I Want to Be Your Friend

It was technically impossible to breathe underwater, but you know, Mukuro has never cared for the technicalities; with a burst of pure Flames, the water was scorched back long enough for Mukuro to take a deep breathe, curse the Fates for their mockery, and shut his mouth before the water got in (Flames can only do so much). Mukuro shuddered; this water was crummy and brown and bits of unidentifiable things floated by, staring Mukuro in the eye and making him wish he could summon a pair of goggles – his eyes felt grimy.

But Mukuro was determined. With a twitching, disgusted nose and a drily amused Acrobaleno on his heels, Mukuro kicked off a nearby (disgusting, slimy, _green_ ) wall and swam on. From within his bowl of Mist Flames, Mammon snickered, and kind of wished she had some popcorn. Whatever leading TV show was on had _nothing_ on watching an OCD-stricken and environmentally challenged kid swim through the sewers. Mammon snickered again, and indulged herself by summoning some popcorn. It crunched quite nicely in time to Mukuro's frantic strokes.

Mukuro, oblivious, chugged on. One stroke, two strokes, grab a corner and hang for dear life. Mukuro was, unfortunately, not the strongest of swimmers. Or eaters. Or wrestlers. Or basically anything that didn't use his brain and his Flames. Mukuro frowned harder for it (it looked like a pout), and kicked off the wall. He swam forward, ignoring his tightening chest, and viciously pulled the water through his strokes. Back in his corner, Mukuro gave a drunk cheer, having decided to indulge a step further. There was a glass of alcohol in one hand that kept knocking against Mammon's ball of Flames and sending balls of champagne into the murky sewers. Not that Mukuro was aware of it, of course. He was more worried about the _disgusting_ water and where he was going to need to scrub hardest tonight.

Mukuro stopped to stare. Floating along in the murky, dank waters was she-cat's bloated (and decidedly dead) head - that was another thing: why did everything have to be _dead_? Fighting a shudder, Mukuro found the nearest grimy wall and kick off, fighting his way through the sewer, his teeth bared in semblance of a smile. Even in grimy water, Mukuro grinned with relish. His teeth were chilled by the water, and somewhere inside, Mukuro was recoiling from the entire experience with a cup of warm tea and a set of friends who never left his side, but he pushed on. He didn't have anything else to do, and the light of the exit was getting closer and closer… Fear shot through Mukuro's heart; yes, the nice white light was getting stronger, but so was the current. Before, it had pulled things like used tampons and dead fish into his way. Now, it was pushing Mukuro forward. Like an insistent mother, it pushed and pushed and pushed-

With wide eyes and a half-cracked smile, Mukuro popped out of the sewer system and onto the streets. He immediately set about to coughing - some of the sewer had stuck with him. Bits of dead flesh and old trash clung to Mukuro's wet figure as he hacked up brown grimy water. Mukuro shuddered with cold and disgusted, hacked, and spat. The fat glob of white hit the pavement in front of him. Mukuro wrinkled his nose in distaste, and tried to move his weak limbs away from all the trash.

A warm hand surprised him. Mukuro turned his head to look on with astonishment as Mammon, his temporary caretaker, lifted him up from the grave (figuratively speaking, of course). Mammon raised an eyebrow. "Sheesh," she mumbled, "You'd think I'd never been nice to you." Mukuro, still shocked, swallowed the protest that, yes, that was a fairly accurate description of how Mammon treated him. Even stricken with a 105 degree fever, Mukuro was still expected to take his own medicine and make it to the bathroom in time to hurl.

Oblivious (or ignoring) his fuming student, Mammon giggled cheerfully and skipped down the road, silently cheering to be alone (well, almost) in Namimori. It was almost like a vacation!

O X O

Tsuna was reeaally getting sick of this place. His head hurt, his side had multiple stiches, there were bruises on his knees from where he'd already fallen – yet another reason Tsuna enjoyed actual _lighting_ – and every time that Tsuna asked Tsu-kun for a break, his counterpart would smile and say, "Gomen'ne, Tsuna-chama.* It's just a little bit further from here," and then refuse to say anything else. Well, until Tsuna tried to sit down and/or threw a tantrum. Then Tsu-kun'd say those awful words again, doubly so with those big brown eyes, and then Tsuna'd get up, looking down at the ground(?), and try not to say anything. Tsu-kun was under just as much pressure, Tsuna could reason, so why _he_ handle it?

It was a simple question. A good question. It didn't have a good answer: Tsuna wasn't strong enough. Because, try as he might, every five hundred paces or so would lead to another injury, another argument, another almost-tantrum, and another five hundred paces to go. It was hell.

Tsuna was sick of it. So he said so. "Tsu-kun," he said firmly, stopping them both in their tracks (could they leave 'tracks' when they were alone in the darkness?), "How far is it, really, to where we're going?" Tsu-kun blinked at him, a kind smile on his face, but an oblivious look in his eyes. For a second, Tsuna thought he'd answer truthfully. But then those awful words star-

Tsuna's nostrils flared, and he stepped away from Tsu-kun, dropping the warm hand as he did so. "You don't know where we're going, do you?" Tsuna asked, his voice taunt like soda cans about to crunch into oblivion. Tsuna thought he'd been rather reasonable; he was a little boy lost in a big place, and honestly, it seemed a little unfair to him that everyone seemed to be demanding the best of him. Even 'himself'!

Anger flickered like orange flames around him, violent and untamed and - and Tsuna shut his eyes, shutting it out. Anger terrified him. It was like thunder - powerful, untamed, and uncaring of whom it hurt. Tsuna had seen many people angry, most strikingly his father. He'd often been on the receiving end of such anger, and he _refused_ to do the same to some one else. Refused. So Tsuna took breath in, held it, and let it out. He repeated the exercise a few times more, trying (and succeeding!) at managing his temper.

When he felt that he was sufficiently calm, Tsuna opened his eyes. He openly glared at Tsu-kun, who, for his part, looked dutifully sheepish. "Sorry," Tsu-kun smiled, a little more wry in his shrug then beforehand, "But it really isn't that far."

Tsuna raised an eyebrow, disbelieving.

Tsu-kun laughed richly, and it shocked Tsuna. How could someone laugh in the face of adversary? In the face of pain? It boggled the mind!

While Tsuna was shocked and confused, Tsu-kun took by the hand and practically dragged the boy along, even when Tsuna snapped out of it and started protesting loudly, his feet digging into the ground(?) below and halting their progress every few feet. It went on like this for a couple hundred feet, Tsuna desperately fighting this violation of his self-control (pun totally not intended), and Tsu-kun growing more and more exasperated.

Finally, Tsu-kun turned to his friend and asked, his voice dry with disbelief, "Do you really think I would just lead you on like that?"

Tsuna glared at him, wringing their joined hands for emphasis as he sourly remarked, "Yes."

Tsu-kun looked disturbed, and not just a little annoyed. "Look," he said, squeezing their hands together to catch Tsuna's spitefully wandering attention, "I'm not lying to you. I know where we're going, and I _do_ have something I want to show you. But you have to let me lead!"

Tsuna's nostrils flared, though not as largely as before. "Why do you have to lead?" he grumbled, looking off to the side. He peaked at Tsu-kun from the corner of his eyes.

To Tsuna's surprise, Tsu-kun glared at him. "Because _you_ don't know!"

Tsuna blinked, hurt welling in his chest. "Don't know what?" he asked, his voice quieter than before.

Tsu-kun shook his head violently, something sparkly in his eyes. "You don't know where we're going! You don't know about the _sisghioshgu_!"

Tsu-kun's deep breath sounded loud in Tsuna's puzzled silence. "Know what?" he asked, quieter still. Tsu-kun's eyebrow twitched, sending Tsuna's little heart scuttling back into his chest, and the sigh didn't do much better.

"Look," Tsu-kun said, much quieter and kinder now (not that Tsuna'd be fooled again), "I know where we're going. I know you want to know, but do you know about spgjsiogosrhgirshus shosihriogsir?" Tsu-kun watched for recognition. He sighed when he saw none. "Nevermind," he said softly, tugging Tsuna's hand as if to lead him on again, as if their destination was just over the next hill. T

suna didn't budge. "Know what?" he asked, quietly and timidly. Tsu-kun worried him with a low gaze and the continued playing with their hands, as if he was caught in a bad memory only he could remember, or as if he was reluctant to share. Tsuna's heart rate picked up - this felt important, whatever it might be.

Tsu-kun sighed and asked, "Do you remember the tree?"

Tsuna's memory went back to a warm day with friends and nodded, because yes, he remembered climbing that wonderful old tree after that wonderful time with the Yamamoto. Tsu-kun breathed in deeply, his dark eyes studying Tsuna closely. As if waiting for a reaction.

"Do you remember what followed?" Tsu-kun asked, his voice quiet and worried, but hopeful. It was like a pin being dropped in the silence; suddenly, Tsuna _knew_. His world exploded into agony and red and orange and blue and green and purple and _pain,_ so much _pain_ Tsuna thought his head would burst, but instead the worlds collided, the hospital glowed with the light of seven suns, and Tsuna passed out.

In the darkness again, Tsu-kun looked down at his shaking, trembling hands. He laughed, the sound as hollow and weak as a bone freshly broken. "I did it," the little boy whispered, putting his hands to his head, "I did it." The little boy, still trembling, slumped to the ground, triumphant. He had won. But at what cost?

O X O

 ***'-chama' is an honorific that is between '-chan' and '-sama.' Basically, a servant's way of addressing a cutesy master/mistress, which I'm sure is how Tsu-kun sees their (his and Tsuna's) relationship.**

 **... This chapter turned out better than I thought. *warily glances out from under my protective book* ... Comments? Concerns? Questions?**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	31. Little Boys

"Qu'est-ce que c'est, ici?" asked Satoshi, speaking French quietly with his wife as to preserve an air of mystery. His wife smiled at him, and he smiled back, the two of them at ease and happy to be fooling the rest. Nary a soul was alerted as Marie's dark eyes glowed softly in the breeze, a slight tinge to them that was otherwise hidden by her black contacts.

Marie's smiled waned as her gaze dropped to the ground, considering the stained sidewalk, a nearby tree, and the hidden park bench besides them. To Satoshi's eyes, these looked like normal things – nothing particularly interesting, not until the extraordinary makes them so. As Marie often did: "He's been here," Marie whispered softly, her French fluent but her dislike evident. Had it been other circumstances, Satoshi would've laughed and teased his wife about that one day almost a hundred years ago she tried drinking wine from a coke bottle, and suffered horribly for it. The bottle was, of course, trademarked from France, even though the design was American. Personally, Satoshi was just glad he never liked soda.

Satoshi took a deep breath and smiled wanly in the breeze, allowing the end of summer to rumple his smooth slacks and dark suit. "Then we shall greet Him," Satoshi whispered to the breeze, smiling as the breeze fluctuated wildly, like a child caught in the emotion of joy. Satoshi's smile tilted. "It is almost time for school to re-start,*" Satoshi mentioned, watching his wife nod.

"All in good time, dear husband," Marie smiled, and took Satoshi by the arm to lead him to the park bench. As Satoshi said: ordinary, until extraordinary. As Satoshi had been, and now was, with Marie at his side.

(The chief inspector was discreet enough not to notice the couple kissing on the park bench.)

O X O

Hibari's eyes snapped open. "If you put that on my face, I will kill you," he told Sasagawa-sensei, dead serious. The hand in front of his face froze, its mission aborted. Sasagawa-sensei laughed nervously.

"Ah, come on, just a little bit?" Sasagawa-sensei peddled, grinning sheepishly, but with such an air of delighted amusement one could be forgiven for mistaking him a child. A stick of eyeliner was balancing lightly in one hand, its sparkly blue end already uncapped, and its mischief waiting to be created.

Hibari glowered. " _No_ ," he stressed, and quickly moved off the bed before Sasagawa-sensei could get any other wacky ideas. Such as, for instance, putting Hibari in a dress.

Sasagawa-sensei pouted, the eyeliner still dangerously close to Hibari's person, which may or may not have been the reason Hibari quickly moved to the other side of the room, but dutifully capped the pen. Albeit with some grumbling. Well, not really _some_ per se, so much as a lot.. Hibari was kind enough not to take offense, honestly.

While Sasagawa-sensei slowly and excruciatingly (for sensei at least; god knows Hibari couldn't make all those weird faces without getting face cramps) capped the eyeliner and hid in one of his many pockets – Hibari would have to keep on that, in case sensei decided to pull it out again – Hibari neatly shook out his blazer, and patted out the creases his rest had put in. With a quiet sigh, Hibari swung his blazer onto his shoulders. He was ready to face the day.

Sasagawa-sensei snorted. "For a guy, you're awfully pretentious. And neat," the man sighed wistfully, leaning into the bed Hibari had so kindly warmed and then vacated. Sasagawa-sensei froze. The eyeliner just crunched.

Hibari gave Sasagawa-sensei a flat look. "What does my gender have to do with my cleaning habits? Or personality, for that matter?" Hibari asked, pretending to be overtly haughty, one eyebrow raised and lips pressed firmly together. He was, unwittingly, the spitting image of Hibari Satoshi.

Sasagawa-sensei took one look at him and burst out laughing. "Bwahahahahaha!" Sasagawa-sensei cackled, turning into the bed and pressing his face in the cushions, hiding from Hibari and very discreetly trying to check on his dear eyeliner. He breathed a sigh of relief; it was his ID that cracked, not the eyeliner. Hibari's eyebrow twitched, but he didn't dignify that with a response; his pride wouldn't let him.

Instead, Hibari shifted on his feet, and, looking rather uncomfortable/constipated, asked, "Your brat good to go?"

Sasagawa-sensei sucked in deep breathes, still recovering from his laughter, but weakly nodded his head 'yes.' "Yeah," he mumbled weakly, "They said he just needs rest and recovery. I'm waiting on his parents actually; I don't really fancy the idea of being sued," Sasagawa-sensei grimaced, bringing his head up from the bed. There was a large, red crease mark in the middle of his forehead, and Hibari's face was still somewhat constipated.

Both men had to look away for fear of laughing. Honestly, Sasagawa-sensei wasn't afraid of laughing so much as waking up anyone asleep at this hour (which, at around ten, wasn't many, but you know, hospital people sleep a _lot_ , and Sasagawa-sensei wasn't about to infringe on that), but Hibari was scared that if he laughed, it would either sound like death's ringtone (a popular rumor at school and actually something of a kink for fangirls *shudder shudder shudder* *repressing memories, repressing memories*) or like he hadn't laughed in too long. Which he had. But that wasn't the point, the point was to make certain Sasagawa-sensei never _ever_ went through that knock-knock joke phase again. Never ever. Ever.

A nurse walked in at this opportune moment, and for an insane moment thought that she had walked in on two lovers doing their mating ritual. They were standing the appropriate distance apart, she noted, and had flushed cheeks to boot. Healthy cheeks deepened in color as the nurse noted the school uniform, the teacher's coat, and the undeniable fact that neither party could look at the other. The nurse, an otaku at her finest, nearly squealed aloud. She was about to excuse herself and leave to fangirl about forbidden school love in the relative safety of the ladies' restroom, when Hibari looked at her. And as anyone who's ever met Hibari knows, the Look Cannot Be Ignored™.

"What can I help you with?" Hibari asked the nurse, his eyes and hears directed very carefully away from stupid people who just can't seem to stop giggling (just because he couldn't laugh doesn't mean Sasagawa-sensei couldn't giggle like mad), and happened to notice the poor nurse's blush. Hibari frowned, somewhat concerned. Doctors and nurses were quite important, he knew, particularly in times of emergency, and having a sick nurse on-duty did not sound like a good idea in the slightest. Particularly regarding Tsuna.

"Are you alright?" Hibari asked, genuinely concerned, as he took a step forward with his hand in the air, as if to check for a fever. If anything, the nurse's blush got **darker**. If nothing, Sasagawa-sensei's giggles turned into full-on snickers and mini-cackles. Hibari's eyebrow twitched and he twisted his neck around to glare at his teacher (and friend, though they don't mention that in public settings; the chances of someone nearby having a heart attack rose by 400% every time they do so). "Is there something dying in your throat?" Hibari asked dryly, catching Sasagawa-sensei mid-snort, "Because it certainly **sounds** like it." Sasagawa-sensei's cheeks ballooned upwards and purpled, his face a picture of the euphoric bliss only people who have contained their cackles for long periods of time can really relate to.

Hibari quickly turned back around. "Can you take me away from this crazy person?" he quietly asked the nurse, who was slowly regaining a more professional air – or at least, she was, until she noticed the look of genuine discomfort on Hibari's face. It really could've been from the 'crazy person,' as Sasagawa-sensei was making particularly strange and blissful faces, and it could've just as well been Hibari's upset stomach.

The nurse giggled girlishly. "Right this way!" she chirped, and stepped smartly out the doorway. She walked quickly down the hall, a clipboard in one hand and her stethoscope clutched in the other. To her immense discredit, she didn't even notice when she lost her follower.

Hibari sent a charring look Sasagawa-sensei's way. "I would ask you if you're done," he sighed quietly, a tired but bemused smile playing with his lips, "But you never are." Sasagawa-sensei blinked at him, benignly confused and slowly letting out steam, but Hibari wasn't up for elaborations. He'd just slept for about two hours, and all it have served to do was make him sick to his stomach. Like all naps do. With a grimace of distaste, Hibari gestured Sasagawa-sensei out the door, grumbling, "Come on. The sooner we leave, the sooner you can avoid legal prosecution," on the way out.

Sasagawa-sensei nearly leapt out the room as he squawked, "Oi! _You're_ the one handing me legal case after legal case!" and unwittingly woke the few people still sleeping at this hour. Sasagawa-sensei didn't notice; he was too busy jogging down the hall to catch up with his student.

When Sasagawa-sensei reached Hibari's side, the young man turned his head to look at him. A teasing smirk lilted on his mouth as he nearly whispered, "But they all disappear, don't they? Like magic," Hibari hummed, enjoying the look on Sasagawa-sensei's face (half-shock, half-annoyance, and maybe a little bit of relief?) as they turned a corner. Unfortunately, the nurse was had all but disappeared. Hibari frowned, and picked up the pace, not wanting to be left alone in this (mostly) unknown hospital with a crazy man at his side.

Sasagawa-sensei glowered as he followed, grumbling quietly, "There's something wrong with those parents of yours. I just know it." At Hibari's cocked eyebrow, Sasagawa-sensei elaborated. "They're creepy," he said vaguely, his face a mix of mystery and sham, "Kind of like those witch doctors those old American TV shows used to run gigs about. Oi!" Sasagawa-sensei glowered, his voice hot with embarrassment, "Don't laugh!"

Too late, thought many a person watching. Though his shoulders continued to shake silently, Hibari smiled innocently. "I have no idea what you mean," he said, and turned into the kid's room before Sasagawa-sensei come up with a comeback.

The silence was stark and almost complete, save for the standard beeping noise the heart monitor made. The nurse fiddled silently with the computers nearby, checking such and such graphic and noting the information on the clipboard she still grasped. It wasn't as bad as before, Sasagawa-sensei knew, but it was still pretty bad. In the beginning, Tsuna had almost a complete organ failure, up to and almost including his brain. The doctors were barely able to hook him to automatic breathing machines and pacemakers in time, and even then, Sasagawa-sensei was certain that Tsuna would bear scars from the revival. Sasagawa certainly would.

 _…_ _Silence._

The silence was the worst part.

 _... Silence..._

Hibari, always a perceptive young man, put his hand on Sasagawa-sensei's shoulder. "He's breathing." He pointed out, indicating the boy's chest which, though restricted by blanket and machine, continued to move. Up, down. Up, down. Up… down. Hibari squeezed Sasagawa-sensei's shoulder gently, Tsuna's breath whisperingly loud in the silence. "Breathe with him," Hibari recommended, as his instinct said to do. As an adrenaline junkie, Hibari'd been in pretty bad situations before, up to and including that one shitty week at home, but never had it been this bad. The worst injury physical injury any yankee ever got was a double-compound fracture to the left shoulder blade. But physical wounds, as Hibari had learned from Sasagawa-sensei, and to certain extent his father and mother, are much easier to heal than wounds of the heart.

Hibari gave Sasagawa-sensei's shoulder one more squeeze, and then moved away. He felt like he was intruding. Like he was suffocating - breathing in stale air. Like he didn't belong. Just one more place not to go, Hibari mused, moving softly through the halls, a silent shadow in the works.

Hibari had always liked people. They fascinated him, even when they and he did not understand each other. In a way, Hibari's fascination with people with his and their one saving grace: people could do some pretty shitty things, Hibari included. Like they did now; even with his face placid and his eyes dark, Hibari could move silently through the halls of the hospital, untouched by the doctors, nurses, social workers and attendees who worked every day to save lives. They even moved aside to let Hibari through. Had Hibari been a repenting person, he probably would've wondered how these same people would react, knowing he filled their wards on a weekly, if not daily, basis. Probably not well.

Hibari had drifted from one end of the hall (where Tsuna was) towards the ambulance depository room, and was considering the sign that said 'Restrooms ' when a flicker of movement caught his eye, and Hibari noticed another little boy. He was being carried in on a stretcher by careful hands, from what looked to be a recent ambulance run.

Hibari's heart wrenched; this little boy looked like he thought Kusa-chan might, given a couple years to grow and mature ( _god_ , that was daunting thought), granted that this boy was covered in a lot more grit and blood than Hibari hoped Kusa-chan would ever be. Hibari's heart shriveled up and slowly died at the thought of sweet lovely Kusa-chan hurt, and his feet, ever loyal, turned and went in this new direction.

O X O

 ***In Japan, students have the month of August to themselves, which is when most summer festivals happen and are celebrated. At the end of the month, students such as Tsuna, Takashi, and Hibari return to school. Satoshi's actually a little behind the dates. Such a lovely father, ne? I have literally no idea where he came from, 'cause he's creepy as fuck and I don't even watch creepy shows. Or anime. Also, my head is killing me.**

 **I WROTE THIS CHAPTER IN UNDER TWO HOURS. Be proud of me. Because now I have another two hours of homework. T^T Sweetheart, this life is the one I chose, but can still regret.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	32. Remember Me?

They were fighting, twisting like mad snakes, twirling through the nebulous zone, trying to gain the upper hand. Blows were common. Misses were too. Tsuyoshi twisted and wriggled madly, managing to turn and get in a kick below the belt, but his captor's grip was strong, arms taunt like steel snakes, and it was too close to use Flames.

Had it been anyone else Tsuyoshi probably would've said to hell with it and blasted himself out of there, Flame damage or no (which was fairly severe), but there was familiarity here, a sense of home and safety (or maybe just green) that warred with the actions they now used against each other, a war that didn't make sense. It didn't help Tsuyoshi's cause. Tsuyoshi twisted and tried to duck down, out of his captor's grip, but he was a second too late – a fist or maybe a leg slammed down on the top of Tsuyoshi's head. There was brief moment of hot pain, and then Tsuyoshi passed out, unconscious. His captor barely had time to catch him before he fell onto a prickly _rosier_ , but catch him he did, though at the cost of some just nice geta. Dutifully, the captor pulled out some ropes and tied the taller man up, kicking off his ruined shoes as he did so. When he was done, the man collapsed into chair, tired, but waiting. Patient. Bored.

There wasn't much to do in the garden but sit, drink, eat, and perhaps take a walk, but for this man, these things had been done a thousand times, with a thousand different people. Or perhaps just a few hundred. This was a man without time, and without fear as he regarded the blazing sun which moved through the sky, like a fat bug caught in molasses. It was only mildly better than cloud-watching; the clouds here always seem to form the same thoughts. So the captor sat, watching the sun, occasionally glancing down and to the left, noting the unconscious man's position, whether the bonds would hold, how much longer he could wait, and then looking back up at the sun. This man, much like his friends, need never fear blindness.

…

Tsuyoshi's eyes flickered open, squinting in the bright light and cheery colors. Everything sort of mushed together, creating a giant blob of pastel yellows, pinks, and deep reds, but even with the world running together, Tsuyoshi could still recognize the bright green of his friend's kimono. Almost instantly, Tsuyoshi's eyes drooped again, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. "K-kawahira-san," he coughed, his voice breaking and his throat raw (how long had he been out?), about to speak when a cup was put to his lips.

"Drink," Kawahira said, though he sounded a little off. A little faraway, maybe? Perhaps they were in a tunnel… Tsuyoshi coughed as some of the water offered when down the wrong pipe. He grinned sheepishly as Kawahira quietly sighed before wiping Tsuyoshi's mouth and giving Tsuyoshi more water to drink.

Tsuyoshi sighed pleasurably, and leaned back, away from the cup, his mind still in a fog. Sharp pain and tight bindings jolted him; Tsuyoshi paused, shifting around so he could test the strength of his bonds. From the thickness, it felt like they were nylon, maybe plastic, and tight as hell. Tsuyoshi was about to flex and test for the resistance, when Kawahira sighed. It was a heartfelt sigh, like when you've got a cold and you're sighing because it feels like the world is against you, so naturally Tsuyoshi paused and turned his attention back towards his friend.

"Kawahira-san?" Tsuyoshi asked, glancing about in his muddled world for color, and ended up staring at Kawahira's kimono again. By the man's sigh, Kawahira wasn't too happy about essentially having his cans stared at, but Tsuyoshi couldn't really do anything about. Not until his vision cleared up. (Though he did try to excuse himself with a smile.)

"It's, just-" Kawahira broke off, silent. Tsuyoshi blinked slowly, hoping to clear his vision. It worked, somewhat – he could now see the sun in his mushed-up reality. And something that looked like hair? "Do you even recognize me?" Kawahira half-asked, half-demanded, and Tsuyoshi had to blink a couple times more, because confusing appearances with a major concussion is alright, but confusing voices? Tsuyoshi kind of died inside.

The man opposite (Tsuyoshi could hardly call him Kawahira if he didn't even _know_ if it was Kawahira – maybe everyone was all secretly wearing bright green kimonos, and Tsuyoshi just never caught on before. It wouldn't be the first time something was happening right under his nose) gave a strangled scream, spooking Tsuyoshi and prompting him for the first time to wonder why he was the only one tied up (cups typically lean to one side when you're tied up and trying to sip something, as Tsuyoshi well knew).

The man - Tsuyoshi was fairly certain it was a man, if only for the voice, and because transgenders are rare in Namimori - growled. "I was your date for the entirety of the summer festival," he growled, his voice accusatory, and for one insane moment Tsuyoshi was scared he had gotten the man pregnant. But reality quickly reasserted itself; men were biologically incapable of children.

"First off," Tsuyoshi mumbled, head beginning to pound, "I don't swing that way. Second," here, Tsuyoshi paused, honestly confused, "What date?" _What summer festival?_ It hadn't bothered him before, but now that Tsuyoshi was more alert, he noticed that dates and times eluded him like eel; for the life of him, he couldn't remember what day it was or who Kawahira really was. With a drop to the bottom of his stomach, Tsuyoshi realized he didn't even know _himself_ , and that was a terrifying prospect.

Meanwhile, the man across from Tsuyoshi was grumbling to himself. "Might've dosed him with too much," caught Tsuyoshi's ear, and yanked him back into reality. It jolted the pit in his stomach, and gave him something else to focus on.

"Dosed me with what?" Tsuyoshi asked sharply, his eyes narrowing. He tried to calm his heart rate as the man paused significantly, and then, with the greatest of care, said, "Flames." And Tsuyoshi understood. With a hiss, Tsuyoshi leaned back into his seat, wincing at his ropes but still glaring at nothing. "I'm a hostage, aren't I?" He asked, though it was more of an accusation than a question.

There was a pause, and then the man said, sounding surprised, "Yes, yes you are. For your son," Tsuyoshi's glare abruptly went from angry at himself to ferocious, startling his captor in the process, "and for Kawahira."

... Well that wasn't weird as hell. Seriously, Kawahira? The man may be mysterious as all hell, but he was no mastermind. At least, not that Tsuyoshi knew. Tsuyoshi breathed deeply through his nose, considering his options, and then, with the greatest calm and care he could give, asked, "Are you gonna tell me why?" If he was going to get out, Tsuyoshi reasoned, he needed more information.

There was another significant pause, filled with what Tsuyoshi really hoped was contemplation – the good thing about the bad guys is that they always talk about their plans with little to no prompting – while Tsuyoshi tried to breathe out his more soft-core emotions. In this case, he needed his mind, not his heart. He had almost succeeded when the man started talking again.

"... going to tell you later, when you were more lucid," the man was saying, but so quietly Tsuyoshi had to strain to hear- "But I might as well tell you now." He sounded mighty haughty about it, too. "It all began about six months ago," the man began, adopting a tone of lecture that instantly killed Tsuyoshi's buzz, "When your son, ehem," Tsuyoshi could imagine a prissy lord giving him a glare as if blaming him for the actions of his son, and had to repress an insane snicker, "Brought something to this timeline that threw it out of wack."

Tsuyoshi frowned. His son? The timeline? What timeline? What did he do? What did- the man laughed. "You're confused," he said, a note of cruelty bending the words nastily, "And I would be too. I would love to how your son has altered the timeline so fully, and how on earth managed he managed to make _Kawahira_ his friend, but, you know," a pause, as if the man was shrugging, "I couldn't care less about the cause. I care about the ending; Yamamoto-kun will die, and Kawahira will merge with me. And all will be as it should."

… _[insert awkward silence]_

Tsuyoshi laughed. He laughed loudly, and it rang with contempt. "And how, my friend," he asked, his lips spread wide and teeth showing, "Do you plan to do this?" Tsuyoshi's lips pulled taunt across his face, showing off teeth that looked a little too sharp, and eyes that glittered little diamonds. Cold, hard diamonds. Harder than rock.

The captor's voice twisted venomously as he spat, "With the very thing that allowed me to capture you," a breath, "Flames, and not a little bit of flirting."

… _[insert more awkward silence]_

Tsuyoshi would have laughed, for the most daring of plans had a fool for a brain, had the man not added, "Which you can't use, by the way." Tsuyoshi just blinked at him.

"Flirt?" he asked, somewhat mortified that this was a topic for discuss-

"No!" the man yelped, paused, and then added, "Well, that too," at which point Tsuyoshi had to bow his head in shame, because this is what the world is coming to. The man snorted. "Seriously," he grumbled, "I was flirting with you all night long, and you didn't notice a thing!" The man huffed, as if not being able to flirt is the greatest affront to the world that one can have. Again, the insanity of the situation was not doing great things for Tsuyoshi.

"Flirting?" Tsuyoshi mumbled to himself, still confused and very much bewildered. He felt like the world might make more sense if he could actually _see_ it, and there wasn't a giant headache throbbing through his cranium. Honestly, it was little there was a tapeworm in his brain, scattering his thoughts and flinging rationality far, far, far away. It was annoying, really.

Tsuyoshi breathed in deeply through his mouth, trying to calm his stomach and his head, and found himself brought up short by his binds. Tsuyoshi blinked, and flexed around some more. There were ropes around his chest, wrists, knees and ankles -this man, whomever he was, knew his anatomy- and a circuit of some hard material that was apparently keeping Tsuyoshi's propped up. His skin had warmed it to the point Tsuyoshi couldn't feel it anymore. Huh. There was also a concussion to blame. Tsuyoshi shook his head, scattering irrelevant thoughts, and tried to concentrate. There was something about Flames, something about the ropes…

Tsuyoshi's jaw dropped open. "No way," he gasped, soundly like a kid in a candy store as he demanded excitedly, "They managed to make Flame-repellant ropes?!" The man's half-swallowed grunt that soundly vaguely like a yes was like music to Tsuyoshi's ears. He had to suppress his fanboy squeal, a squeal that was swallowed and compressed, but even Tsuyoshi couldn't keep his shit-ass grin down under. Still caught in the throngs of his fandom, Tsuyoshi demanded, "So how does it work? Does it use metal or plastic or Flames – oh! Are these embodiments of your Flames? Did you weave them together? Did you use any external stimuli? What was the basis?" Tsuyoshi flexed again, testing his bonds for weave, and nearly passed out via fangasm when the bonds squeezed down on him, answering his question silently. Yes, this was Flame weave. Yes, this was totally awesome;

Flame weave, as Tsuyoshi and apparently his captor well knew, was a complex art that involved sensing, manipulating, expressing, and then external manipulation of one's Flames, all of which was tricky enough alone, but to make something that _lasts_? To make something _real_? It was cutting-edge technology, and the squeal Tsuyoshi bottled was just waiting –

Someone grabbed Tsuyoshi jaw and forced it down, and stuffed in a rag before Tsuyoshi yanked his head back, a bleary-eyed glare and stuffed mouth. No more questions. The captor sighed. "I had known you were a fanboy," he grumbled, "I would've _never_ invited you to my tea party." He sounded distinctly petulant. Tsuyoshi couldn't decide whether to grin or glare, so he settled for a mutilated mixture of both. The man, apparently perturbed, fell silent. Tsuyoshi was left without information or entertainment, so he did what he does best: he decided to wait. To wait until someone came, or his captor made a mistake. So, taking a deep breath that he almost choked on (courtesy of the gag), Tsuyoshi leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and settled in to wait.

O X O

 **Bad chapter, yes, yes, I know, but finals are a thing, and I'm done with them now. I spent most of my time either studying for exams, freaking out about exams, and planning out the end of this story. Ah, and writing this chapter too, I suppose (though it was a rush job). This story will probably be finished soon, within a month or so, and then I'll take the time to revise the whole story before I move onto my next project. Love y'all, please review.**

 **R & R. Please and thank you.**


	33. ALERT

**A note from the author:**

 **I am currently working on the last chapter of this fic before I revise the whole thing, but because of end-of-the-year finals, my plans have been pushed back. I was originally planning for there to be two more chapters, but I think the next one will be the last. Wish me luck! Also, sorry for the faux-update. *bows deeply***

 **Sincerely,**

 **4701rose**


	34. ALERT X2

**A note from the author -**

 **I am so sorry, guys! I've been typing and scritch-scratching away, but I still half the ending left to write! Please excuse my tardiness, and I hope that I finish this upcoming Fri. I think I will, given there are no more exams to study for - gods, the end-of-the-year hype is TOO MUCH DRAMA - but given I've already gone two weeks without delivery, I won't make any promises.**

 **Hope you'll stick by me,**

 **(Reviews make the work go faster!)**

 **\- 4701rose**


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